


The Angel Amendment

by ScarlettSiren



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Civil Rights Movement, M/M, Political Campaigns, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettSiren/pseuds/ScarlettSiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. In a world where angels are slaves to humanity, Sam Winchester is the only politician willing to stand up for equal rights after an angel saved his life. Meanwhile, his brother, Dean, helps him run an angel rehabilitation center in their hometown. He's always just done it because it's Sammy's vision...but it becomes his fight, too, when he meets an angel with blue eyes and black wings who seems to think Dean is his savior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a prompt on Omegle from foreverairofmystery. I ended up going a completely different direction than the RP went, but I want to give credit where credit was due for the original inspiration!
> 
> A few notes on the universe of this fic. It’s not really what I’d call a Slave!Fic because it’s more about the civil rights aspect than the master/slave aspect. Also, it’s in what I call an ‘atheist universe’, meaning there’s no religion at all historically. So no one would say, “Oh my God”, because to them, God is just the alleged ruler of Heaven (the city in the clouds) that no one has ever actually seen. This was the only way to make it really plausible that humans’ first reactions to meeting angels would be to enslave them, at least in my mind.

Castiel was a slave. He could hardly remember a time when he hadn't been, before he and his brothers and sisters had been cast out of Heaven and sold into the humans' service. That felt like so long ago, but it was really no time at all for an angel. Human years were like days to them. Hours, maybe. Living an eternity had a way of making time seem meaningless...at least, before the Fall. That's what the angels called it. That was the day Michael and Lucifer disappeared, and his brother, Raphael, took control of Heaven. The coup was swift and devastating. The remaining archangels were exiled, leaving rebel cherubs and seraphs to be sold into slavery. Those who did not bow to Raphael were sold as slaves. Even some who did were sold anyway to keep the rest in line.

Castiel had led the rebellion, or tried to. But a lower-class angel starting a war with an archangel was a lost cause, and Castiel was made example of. Stripped of his title and Grace dampened, he was flung down to earth, defeated and humiliated, to be sold into slavery. As the leader of his garrison, a true soldier of God, he was first put into the ring. Angel fighting was frowned upon in many circles, but not illegal, and many angels which were found to not be suitable slaves were thrown into the fights. But Castiel refused to kill his brethren; he wouldn't fight...no matter how hard they fought him, no matter how much they tortured him, he would not fight back.

Eventually, they gave up on him, and moved him to hard labor. But when not locked down in the stockades and chained, Castiel often attempted escape. He would end up leaving one owner, just to be snatched up by another. Each time, he proved too unruly. No amount of discipline or torture would break him. Eventually, he was abandoned as a lost cause, thrown bleeding and bruised to the first seller who would take him.

That was how he'd ended up here, shoved into a tiny crate and starving to death at the side of the road in a market stall. Angels were hardier than humans, but a week without food and only a few tablespoons of stale water was pushing it, even so. Maybe it was better like this, he mused; to just die slowly, rotting in this metal prison, than to be sold on to another owner.

That was when he saw him.

Dean Winchester was not a bleeding heart. Social issues were never his forte, and he found out early on that it was just better to take the neutral ground and stay the hell out of everything.

Well, that sort of became impossible when his brother took office.

Sam Winchester, fresh out of law-school, had committed to a successful career at an illustrious law firm in California. That was, until, one fateful night, he was in a horrendous car crash, and was pulled from the wreckage by an angel. His whole life, he, like almost everyone it seemed, had been raised to believe that angels were second-class citizens...hardly even people; just things to be owned. But he couldn't think that way anymore. The angel, unconcerned with his own well-being, pulled him to safety and used his Grace to heal him. The angel had been a 'stray'; not owned or for sale, just wandering alone and abandoned. Sam took him in, not as a slave, but as a friend, he said. And then he quit his job at the law firm and began a campaign for government, with the risky platform of angel equality.

Dean had been there for his brother, at least as much as he could be. He was never the intellectual of the two of them, so he was content to do the legwork. He helped to run several angel rehab centers for abused angels, and helped out in other volunteer capacities with his brother's work. That was, on top of an actual job. He was on his way home from said actual job when he spotted the angel in the street market. Usually they were in bad shape in this part of town, caged up underfed…but this one looked horrible. He always did his best to separate himself emotionally from the work, just like you would working in an animal or homeless shelter. But no matter how much you distance yourself, you can’t deny that spark of humanity that claws at you when you see something this deplorable. He supposed this was how pound workers ended up with three dozen cats of their own.

He stepped up to the owner of the stand, motioning to the cage in question. “How much for that one?”

The dealer looked up from his feet, eying the man in front of him carefully. There was something off, but he didn't care. "Oh...you don't want that one. Try the one down the street." He got have the proceeds from that stand and the angels were worth much more. "This guy, he won't do anything. Wouldn't fight, wouldn't fuck...he's useless." The dealer spat, and kicked the cage, causing a tremor to run through it.

Castiel shook when the cage rattled. He felt ill and he just wanted this to end. He knew his dealer was trying to make sure he didn't get sold, so he'd just die and he could get the money. But now there was this man, a man who in this light looked like a savior…but he knew it was too good to be true. Yet, this may have been his chance. Of course, Castiel wasn't sure it he wanted a chance, a chance that could end with him beaten and broken on the floor again, but that was still better than dying on the side of the road. It was a hard decision, but at least this way, he had a chance.

"I'm not looking for a fighting or fucking angel, I asked you, how much for that one?" Dean bit back, not able to keep the growl out of his voice.

The dealer raised his hands, "He's only a hundred. But I keep the metal, it's actually worth something."

Dean scoffed at the audacity of the guy, sneering as he pulled out his wallet and handed him the money. "Keep your fucking cage, dude."

The dealer nodded, opening the cage and dumping the angel onto the floor. Castiel hit the ground with a groan, curling himself into a ball right away and closing his eyes.

Dean felt the anger flare up inside him and his shoulders tensed, but he clenched his jaw and fists until he calmed down, kneeling by the angel. "Can you stand?" It didn't look like he could. Hell, he probably weighed next to nothing: his ribs were so visible he could count them all the way up to his collarbone.

Castiel looked up at the man carefully, scared and weak blue eyes meeting green and he shook his head, crawling away from the stand and towards this strange man. Dean froze momentarily at those eyes staring at him. Dean had seen /many/ angels. A lot of them had features that were too beautiful to be human. Annael had flowing hair in a shade of red not natural to humans. Sam's angel, Gabriel, had the most striking honey-golden amber eyes Dean had ever seen (and Sam talked about them only all the freaking time), and yeah, they were something special...but the deep blue of this angel's eyes was beyond mesmerizing.

Dean gently pushed his arms under the angel's shoulders, pulling him up off the ground gingerly. He'd said the angel wasn't a fighter, but that didn't mean he wasn't defensive and wouldn't try to hurt him. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe, okay? I'm not going to hurt you."

Castiel looked at the man as he was picked up from the ground, he nodded slowly. Glancing over at the dealer, he wrapped his arms around this man's neck and burrowed into his chest. It wasn't good sense to trust a human, he knew it wasn’t, but at this moment he had this chance, and only this chance, to be saved. He needed to trust that this man, this buyer, wanted to heal him, wanted him safe.

Dean scooped the angel up bridal-style, keeping the wings against the angel’s back and his head lying on his chest for support. He stood, noting how light the creature was as he continued his trek back to his car, which was parked several blocks down. He was not ignorant to the stares of the passers-by as he made his way to his Impala. He opened the back door with a fair amount of effort, kicking it out of the way with his foot.

“Just lie down back here; it’s not a far drive.” Dean said, setting the angel down against the leather and sliding him in with little effort. Once he was out of the way, he closed the door and went to the driver’s side, getting in behind the wheel and starting her up. He killed the radio, not wanting to startle the angel. The silence, however, was beyond unnerving as he drove to the clinic where he volunteered on weekdays after his shift at the auto body shop.

He couldn’t help but speak up, his voice quiet. “So, uh…you speak English? I’m afraid my Enochian’s really crappy. My brother’s teaching me, but…well, I’m not exactly a quick study.”

Castiel swallowed, the cold of the leather disturbingly nice against his broken wings. He curled them around himself in a black feather cocoon. "Yes, I speak English." The angel croaked. He did speak it, very well if he said so himself, he was just thirsty and his throat was raw and he didn't have much energy to talk. "Water?"

Dean grimaced. "None in the car, I'm sorry." And he did actually sound genuinely sorry. So much for detachment. "I'm taking you to a clinic, though. For angels. We'll get you patched up there, and you can have all the food and water you need."

Castiel nodded slowly, but he was wary. "Don't like people." He said sadly, looking out the window.

"I can get behind that." Dean replied with a bitter huff of a laugh. "Don't worry, though. All of these people...they're good. There will be angels there, too. We take in as many as we can until they can go and do their own thing."

Castiel nodded slowly in response. A few moments later, they were pulling into the parking lot of a quaint white building with a sign depicting angel wings and a halo around the words: 'Heaven's Rest Angel Sanctuary'. There was a much larger building to the left of it with a gated path between the two structures and hardly any cars in the lot. Dean killed the engine and came around to the other side of the car again to help the angel out of the backseat. As he pulled him into his arms as he had before, he looked down thoughtfully.

"So, you got a name?" Dean kicked his car door closed and headed into the building.

As soon as he was in this man's arms, Castiel burrowed into his chest again. He smelled like leather, oil and burgers and something about it pleased him. It was nice, almost comforting. He wrapped his arms around the man again and held on carefully.

"Castiel." He said softly. "My name is Castiel."

Dean nodded, making an interested face. Definitely one of the more unique angel names he'd ever heard. "All right, Castiel. My name is--"

"Dean Winchester, where have you been?! You're late!" Barked a female voice. The woman it came from strolled quickly down the hall to meet them.

"Sorry, Amelia. I was distracted. I found him at a street market, he needs...well, everything." Dean replied. "Have an open treatment room?"

"Yes, I just finished with Samandriel's therapy, so we can use room three...my goodness, Dean...he looks awful. You found him at a market? They sold him like that?" Amelia was talking a hundred miles per hour as she led him down the hallway she'd come from with Dean following.

“Yeah, a hundred bucks. I was ready to clock the vendor...but I just wanted to get him here ASAP. He needs water." Dean told her as they entered the door labeled ‘Treatment Room 3’. Dean set Castiel on the gurney there, careful not to put him down too roughly.

"One hundred...oh my gosh, I would have clocked him. I'll put that in the file. Your brother hates it when you forget to put in an expense report; you know he doesn't want you paying out of pocket like that." Amelia chided, picking up a medical file and starting to fill it out. "What's his name?"

"Castiel." Dean told her.

"What a lovely name. Goodness, look how skittish he is. Not that I can blame him...it takes a lot to give an angel bruises that actually stay, and look at the welts on him." Amelia clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she scribbled more notes. "Let's get an IV in him so he doesn't faint, and you can get him one of the hot meals from the kitchen. The extra nutritional one; he's going to need it. I'll get him bandaged up."

Castiel watched the exchange though the fabric of Dean's shirt. This new woman made him uncomfortable; she was loud and she moved too fast. As soon as he was out of Dean's arms, he wanted to be back in them. He watched him walk away to the cooler at the other end of the room and bounded from the bed, scurrying into the corner, as far away from the woman as he could. Dean came back with a bottle of water and Castiel drank it carefully, his eyes not leaving the woman.

Dean knelt next to the angel, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Castiel...it's okay. Can you come lie on this bed for me so Amelia can get you patched up?" He motioned to the gurney. "I'm going to go get you something to eat; I bet you're hungry, hm?"

Castiel looked at Dean carefully, his eyes wide and scared. As the words registered he shook his head. Once Dean had finished speaking he launched himself into Dean's arms.

"No! Don't leave me with her, please…don't leave me..." The angel begged. "Please, don't leave me, Dean."

Dean’s arms kind of flailed awkwardly at being virtually tackled, but after a moment, he wrapped them soothingly around the angel’s shoulders, careful not to touch his wings. “It’s okay, Castiel…it’s all right, I’m here.”

He shot a look at Amelia, who gave a shrug. “Okay, well, I’ll go get him some food and the medical supplies, then. Why don’t you stay here and calm him down?”

Dean nodded, turning back to Castiel. In his years of doing this, he’d never had an angel take to him like this. Usually they were screaming for him to leave the room because he looked like the kind of guy who would abuse them. Being able to be in the comforting role this time was…nice. “It’s all right, Castiel. I’m not leaving you, but I’m going to get you off the floor, okay? C’mon.” He held tightly to the angel and stood, lifting him off the ground and bringing him back to the gurney. He set him down as Amelia left the room, still scribbling away at the new file.

Castiel let himself be moved onto the gurney again, he burrowed his face into Dean's neck, his eyes closed. "Is she gone?" He questioned quietly. "I don’t like her.”

Dean nodded in understanding. "It's okay, Castiel. But I promise she won't hurt you. I'm not...I'm not an angel doctor, so, she's gonna have to patch you up. But I'll be right here if you...you know, want me to be." He noticed the empty water bottle in the angel's hand. "Do you want some more water?"

Castiel nodded slowly, "Please."

Dean went and got him another water, taking a seat next to the bed again. The angel drank, staring at his lap pensively. After a long moment, he muttered, "I know I'm not well. I know I am broken."

Dean frowned sadly. "Don't say that. You're...you're probably one of the nicest angels I've ever met. Most of them, well, you know. They're taught to be fighters. So, they lash out." He pulled up his sleeve to show a nasty scar on his left arm; two half-moon shapes just under his elbow. "Annael bit me when I pulled her from her cage. She's better now, but it definitely wasn't pleasant at the time."

Castiel took a breath, reaching out to pull the wound towards him. He paused, then pressed his palm against the cut, pulling back to watch as the scar healed until it couldn't be seen. He looked up at Dean, carefully making sure his efforts weren't unwanted.

"I apologize." He muttered softly. "I shouldn't have done that."

Dean balked, staring down at the now-flawless skin. It was very rare for an angel to use their healing abilities on a human; of course, an angel had done it the night of Sam's accident, and that's what had saved his life. But Dean himself had never been touched by an angel's Grace.

"No, no, it's fine...more than fine. Thank you." He stared thoughtfully at his arm, then at Castiel, before Amelia came back into the room. He shoved his sleeve back down hurriedly.

"Here you are!" She had lowered the volume of her voice considerably as she set a tray of steaming food on the little rolling table next to the gurney. "Why don't you try to get something in your stomach?"

Castiel watched the food warily, he saw Dean nervously hide his helpfulness from this Amelia, but he ignored it. It didn't mean anything. Nodding slowly, Castiel attempted to start eating the food.

Dean gave an encouraging nod as the angel began to eat. Amelia set down several rolls of gauze and medical tape, antibiotics, a saline drip and IV supplies, among other things, on the small desk by the X-ray light box on the wall opposite the gurney. "Well, Castiel, can you tell me how you're feeling?" Amelia pulled a stool over to the side of the bed across from where Dean was sitting. "Do you have any specific aches or pains? Shortness of breath? Dizziness? Headache?"

Angels generally healed quickly, but Cas wasn't in any condition to do heavy healing...and although angels also weren't easily injured at the hands of humans, they did tend to do a number on each other.

Castiel paused and let out a breath, "I believe my right ankle is broken. I have six crack ribs - four and two -" He explained, pointing as he went. "I am suffering from blood loss, but that is easily healed once I'm rested, and I'm malnourished, which you've already helped with."

Amelia wrote that all down, and Dean just let out a shaky breath. "Geez, you're in rougher shape than I thought. You finish that food and just...rest." Dean told him.

"Yes, I'll start an IV drip when you're done eating and I'd like to bind your ankle and ribs so they set properly. I know you angels heal quickly, but you'll need all the help you can get." Amelia said thoughtfully, finishing with her notes and setting the chart at the end of the bed. She had a few tests she wanted to run, but she wanted to wait until he'd at least eaten.

Castiel looked up at Dean. "I'm fine," he shrugged. "I’ve been through worse."

"Just let her take care of you, okay? Amelia's the best angel doctor in the state." Dean assured, placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder.

Amelia gingerly inspected the right ankle, getting some of her medical wrap. "I'm going to bind this, all right? It might hurt a little, but I'll be gentle, okay?"

Castiel nodded, reaching out to take Dean's hand in his own. Amelia was gentle, as promised, and bound the ankle tight enough for a good amount of support, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable. She moved to get the IV supplies next, hanging the saline bag on the chrome rack next to the gurney.

"Before I set up the drip, let’s get your ribs wrapped, hm?" She snagged a few more rolls of the medical tape from the pile she'd brought in earlier.

Castiel felt his breath catch in his throat and he clenched his fingers around Dean's hand. He hated anything with needles; they never ended well for him.

"It's all right, Castiel. It's going to help with the blood-loss and the malnutrition." Dean assured him, gingerly using his grip on the angel's hand to lift it out of the way so Amelia could wrap his ribs.

"I'll just set up a two-hour drip and then we can take it out. Deal?" Amelia asked, smiling sweetly.

Castiel paused, but nodded. He turned his head just to watch Dean. The man held Castiel's eyes, mesmerized by them again. They seemed to be an even more vibrant shade of blue in the bright fluorescent lights of the clinic. He clutched the angel's hand reassuringly as their eyes remained locked.

Amelia finished wrapping his ribs and set up the drip, finding the vein in Castiel's left arm after only two tries (impressive, since angels had notoriously difficult veins) and taped the needle into his skin to secure it before starting the IV. "There. Now, you get some rest and try to get as much food and liquid in you as you can, okay?"

Castiel frowned, curling into a ball facing away from Amelia and toward Dean.

Dean sighed, lifting his hand. He hesitantly laid it on Castiel's shoulder, stroking the skin soothingly. "It's okay, Castiel. We're going to help you. Just rest, and you'll feel better."

Castiel looked up to face Dean carefully, "Is this all pity? Taking me in, fixing me up, caring…this is pity, isn't it?"

Dean gave him a hard expression. "No, it's not. It's thanks." His hand stilled, but did not leave Castiel's skin. "One of your kind saved my brother. He would have died if the angel hadn't done something. And my brother is returning the favor by campaigning for angel equality. I've never been the type for political rhetoric...but I'll say this much...angels are not so different from humans: they may have wings and their Grace, but that doesn't mean we get to treat them like animals. It sickens me that we still treat angels like that's what they are. Despite that he was tortured and beaten by humans, he still took it upon himself to rescue my brother from what could have been a fatal car crash. And as far as I'm concerned, I'll follow my brother's example until angels have the same rights as humans."

Castiel frowned. "But I am not him, Dean. I don't want you to do it because you pity me.”

Dean gave a sad smile. "I promise it's not pity. I don't care if you're not the same angel who saved my brother. You're still an angel. Humans extend this kind of care to other humans, and I think it's damn well time we do it for angels, too."

Castiel swallowed and nodded. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. Now, c'mon, get some rest." Dean chided, pulling the blankets up from the end of the bed to cover the angel.

Castiel paused. "Would you...stay with me…if I wanted you to?"

Dean coughed awkwardly. "Uh, well, if...if it'll help you sleep. I thought you...well, that you didn't like humans. Or angels. Or anyone, I guess."

Castiel sat up, turning to Dean he met his eyes carefully. "I don't. I just like you."

Dean blinked, staring at the angel. He'd never been the likable type, and he couldn't fathom how a frickin' angel managed to like him. "Okay. Well, then I'm here."

He leaned forward, resting his head on his arms at Castiel’s side, taking the angel’s hand into his own as he did so. After a moment, Castiel finally laid back against the pillows. This is something the other volunteers, especially Amelia, had done countless times...angels were victims of abuse more often than they weren't, and that little bit of extra comfort often helped them sleep. Dean had never been the source of that comfort. Not until today.

Castiel felt warm and safe for the first time since he left Heaven as he drifted off to sleep. Dean watched his chest rise and fall softly, glad to see the angel getting some rest.

Amelia scribbled in her chart next to the gurney and kept her voice low. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving him without observation overnight.”

“Okay, well, you take angels home all the time, right? It’s not like he’s violent.” Dean practically whispered, not wanting to wake the angel.

“Dean…Don and I are going to Texas to visit my parents this weekend. I’ve got Benny checking in on the others a few times a day, but he can’t be here all day and night.” Amelia reminded him.

“So, Benny can take him home then, can’t he?” Dean suggested.

The woman just sighed, looking at him pointedly. “Benny’s looking after two young fosters at home, Dean…he doesn’t have the room.”

“So what, you want me to do it?” Dean’s tone was incredulous. “I’m a mechanic, not a doctor. If something actually happens, I won’t know the first thing about helping him.”

“You know how to help them in emergency situations.” She corrected him. “And he’ll heal on his own, he just needs someone to make sure he eats and sleeps. He’s really taken a liking to you, too. I think it’ll be good for him.”

“But-”

“Listen. He has to have supervision over the weekend, Dean. I need you to step up on this.” Amelia gave him a pointed look, and Dean sighed.

“Fine.” He relented. “I’ve got nothing going on this weekend; I’ll look after him, okay?”

Amelia gave a smile as she patted his shoulder. “Thank you, Dean. Your brother would be happy to see you do this.”

Dean huffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just pack me up a kit and I’ll take him home.”

Amelia nodded, going to her supply cabinet and doing as he asked. She packed him some medical supplies along with a few of the frozen meals they kept on hand for heavily malnourished angels.

Castiel only slept for an hour before he came to, groaning and blinking away the exhaustion. He was deliriously unaware of where he was for the first few seconds and sat up in a panic, but when his eyes fell on Dean, he relaxed. “Oh…how long was I asleep?” The angel asked, his voice rough.

“About an hour. Want some more water?” Dean asked softly, still hold his hand, whether he realized it or not.

Castiel nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Dean went to the fridge to get another bottle of water and handed it to the angel. As he drank, Dean watched him carefully, cataloging every movement. Castiel seemed to notice.

“Is something the matter?” The angel asked, setting what was left of the water on the table beside the gurney. Dean cleared his throat.

“No, not really…uh, listen. Amelia and I were talking…and she thinks it’s best if you have someone on call to look after you until you gain back a bit more of your strength. The clinic is only open Monday to Thursday, and since tomorrow’s Friday, there won’t be anyone here for the whole day. So, how’d you like to come home with me for the weekend?” Dean spoke hesitantly, as if unsure. “Look, I’m not an angel doctor, so I really don’t think I’m qualified to take care of you…I’ve never taken care of an angel outside the clinic, and I’m probably shit at it. I just want to make sure you’re in the most capable hands…but Benny and Amelia already have stuff going on, so…I’m all you got right now. Is that…is that okay?”

Castiel looked at Dean critically. "Of course that's okay, Dean. You are more capable than you believe yourself to be, and I am not as fragile as you seem to think. I'm sure we'll be fine for a weekend, no need to worry." He paused. "Of course…you could always just…make me go."

Dean frowned. Amelia had always said that physical wounds were rarely a problem with angels, because they healed so quickly. It was the emotional trauma that they really needed to tend to. "No, no one's making you go, Castiel. I'll look after you."

Castiel hesitated. "I understand if you do not want me, Dean. I'm just a rebellious, broken angel."

Dean sighed. "I never said I didn't want you, Castiel. I just want you to get the best care, and I'm not sure I can provide that. But I'd like to try...if you'd let me?”

Castiel cocked his head to one side. “You wish to take care of me. To take me as yours.” It wasn’t a question.

Dean sighed. “See, that's the problem with it; I can't think of angels like pets. You're just...people. Special people. You should hear the speeches my brother gives...man, he can talk. About how the only reason we enslaved angels is because we're scared of them; that if anything, they should be the ones in power, and we're lucky they haven't turned the tables, because hell, you guys could, you know? But you don't...because at your core, you don't want to rule humanity. You just want to be a part of it."

Castiel paused, listening to Dean's words carefully. This was the salvation he dreamed of; in that moment, humanity gave him hope. "Thank you." He said softly. "You are truly a righteous man.”

Dean coughed somewhat uncomfortably, eyes shifting to the wall. "You're, uh...you're welcome. And I'm sorry, you know, that circumstances aren't different. But we'll make it better. From now on, you'll never have to be a slave again, Castiel. You just...focus on getting better."

Amelia gave him a huge smile and thumbs-up from the doorway, dropping the duffel bag she'd prepped for him just inside the door. She tip-toed back into the room to grab her stethoscope. "Dean, you can go whenever that drip's done, okay? Why don't you call it an early day and take Castiel here home once the IV's finished?"

"You sure you don't...need me around here? Didn't you need someone to help you move Uriel to his new room?" Dean asked, concerned.

"I'm sure Benny and I can handle it. I'll ask Don to stop by after work if it's too difficult. I think it's best that you stay with Castiel until he's feeling better." Amelia told him.

"Uh, okay." Dean glanced at the saline bag: it probably had another fifteen to thirty minutes to go until it was out.

"I'll come back in a bit to take that out." Amelia replied before heading back down the hallway.

Castiel looked down again. "I hate being such a burden.”

"You're not a burden, Castiel. Can I, uh, can I level with you?" Dean asked, turning to face the angel. "I've never...taken an angel home before. I mean, I've helped out around here tons of times, sure. I bring the angels in, get them out of their cages, set them up in their rooms and all that...but I've never had one in my home before. Hell, I never have humans over much at my house. So, it's not that you're a burden. This is all just...a little new for me. My brother Sammy's the one who's been living with an angel for a couple years now. He's the expert."

"You're a good man, Dean...maybe you're not your brother, but you have the same air...at least from what I've heard of him. Many angels know his name, and what he has done for us." Castiel said fondly, a hand resting on Dean's arm. "Your brother...you said he was rescued by an angel...what happened to the angel?"

"Uh, he lives with my brother in Palo Alto. In California." Dean replied. "Sammy's a State Representative, one of the youngest in the House. He's actually petitioning for angels to get a representative into office. It's, uh, not going so well, from what I hear."

“I'm sorry But you had to expect that it wouldn't." Castiel shook his head. "Angels are too easy to overpower. We don't want to hurt humans; it is against our laws."

"Don't worry...Sammy's still working his way up in the world. I've got high hopes for him." Dean said proudly. “I just…I hate that we’re still doing this. First Black Americans, then homosexuality, and now this? How many minorities have to fight for their rights before we realize civil rights are just that, rights?”

"Well, it looks like you're just about done." Amelia said suddenly, snapping Dean out of his thoughts as she came back into the room. She approached Castiel's side, grabbing a cotton ball and medical tape as she looked down at the angel. "Ready to get that needle out?"

Castiel looked at Dean carefully, watching him as Amelia pulled the needle from his arm. Once it was out, Castiel set his hand on Dean’s. "It's all right, Dean. You save all the angels you can here; you are doing everything you can."

Amelia wrapped the cotton and tape onto Castiel's arm when she was done, then disposed of the needle in a nearby sharps container. She stared at the two of them fondly. "Look at him, now he's the one comforting you."

Dean gave a thoughtful sort of exhale, smiling and looking down at him to meet those impossibly blue eyes. "Well, then, you ready to head home?"

Castiel smiled, nodding. "Yes."

"Okay, let me grab the stuff and we can go." Dean slid out of Castiel's grip slowly and retrieved the duffel bag by the door, hooking it over his shoulder before going back to the gurney.

"I don't want him walking yet, Dean…and he can't use crutches with those broken ribs." Amelia warned him.

"That's cool, he can just take the Winchester Express." Dean earned a roll of the woman's eyes as he slipped his arms under Castiel's form and lifted him with ease. "That was a horrible joke, by the way. You'll want to get used to those."

Castiel chuckled softly, holding onto the man for support. "I like them."

"I want him back here bright and early Monday morning for a check-up, Winchester." Amelia said seriously, though her tone suggested she was being lighthearted about it.

"I'll bring him by on my way to work. Have a good weekend in Texas, Amelia." Dean called back as he headed down the hall. Again he found himself having to do a bit of maneuvering again to open the doors to both the building and his car, but he stopped before getting into the Impala. "You want the front or back? Wings might be a tight fit in the front, but if you can manage, I'll let you ride shotgun."

Castiel paused, "Front." He tried to think about what Dean was saying to Amelia as he slid into the front seat. "You're going to leave me here alone aren't you...on Monday?"

Dean smiled and set Castiel down in the front seat before going around and getting in on his side. "Well, I have to go to work on Monday, but I come by the clinic every afternoon after my shift, so I'll be back. It's not like I can bring you to work...Bobby doesn't like angels in the auto body shop." Dean looked horrified suddenly, and back-tracked. "Not that Bobby doesn't like angels, it's the opposite...he helps out a lot with Sammy's work and at the clinic. But he doesn't want any arguments over it at the shop, so he doesn't like them around. He likes angels just fine, he doesn't like how people treat them in his shop."

Castiel nodded, putting his hand on Dean's arm again. "Don't worry. I understand, you don't need to correct yourself." Castiel smiled reassuringly. "So you work on....the bodies of auto...so that's....cars right?"

"Yeah, I fix cars." Dean affirmed, pulling out of the parking lot and heading back to his apartment. "Not exactly one of the finest careers, but it pays the bills. And Bobby gets me some nice gigs on the side fixing up old cars like Baby here." He tapped the steering wheel lovingly.

Castiel smiled, "I'm glad you enjoy your work." He said softly, leaning his head against the seat and letting his hand slip down, not even noticing it land on top of Dean's.

Dean's eyes flicked down to his hand, but he didn't move it from underneath Castiel's as he drove. A few minutes later, he pulled up to a nice apartment complex downtown that he called home. He lifted Castiel out of the car and kicked his door closed before heading for the stairs.

Traversing them was a little difficult, because although Castiel didn't weigh much, Dean still had to take them sideways to make sure the angel's wings or legs or head didn't hit anything, and he was definitely glad he only lived on the second floor by the time he reached his door. It took a fair amount of effort to use the key to open said door, and after a bit of work, he finally managed to unlock it and shoved it open.

Dean had a decent-sized apartment...mostly thanks to his brother's connections. It was enough for just him, and would be cozy for two. He only had the one bedroom, a pleasantly large bathroom, tiny kitchen, decent living room and a porch that looked out on a second floor balcony. His furniture was simple and cheap in tones of brown and beige and sage green. He made his way to the massive L-shaped couch that took up most of the room and set Castiel down gingerly.

"Well, here we are...home sweet home. It's not much, but, y'know...it's just been me for a while. Didn't need much else."

Castiel couldn't help but feel secure with Dean as he was carried again, and once he was put down he reached out to pull the man down with him. Dean was comforting and warm he liked it. Leaning his head on Dean's shoulder, he smiled.

"It's nice." He said softly, before he thought over the words again and pulled back, turning and looking at Dean carefully. "You mean it wasn't just you before. What happened?"

"Well, it was me and Sammy for a long time, before he went off to law school." Dean explained, still reeling from being pulled down onto the couch. He got comfortable, figuring he'd be there for a while. "Not here, I mean. We had a bigger place. I downgraded when he moved out."

Castiel nodded, shifting on the couch so his head rested in Dean's lap, pausing as if to make sure it was okay before he spoke again. "So not married then. Have a girlfriend? I'd expect someone of your age, generosity and looks would have a girlfriend."

Dean cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. "Uh, no. No girlfriend. Not married. Never...got around to it."

Castiel paused, "I'm sorry for bringing it up. But what about Amelia? You two seemed...close."

Dean snorted. "Amelia's married. And not my type. She’s a close friend."

Castiel nodded slowly, "Who's your type then?"

Dean hadn't really thought about it in a long time. It'd been a while since he'd been on an actual date, or even gave anyone the time of day, honestly. "Well, uh...I don't know. I guess I haven't really put a lot of thought into it lately. It's not exactly on the priority list."

There was moment where Castiel didn't speak, he just thought about what to say next, before he put a soft hand on Dean's knee. "Your happiness should be the first thing on your priority list."

Dean looked down at the hand on his knee, then up to capture Castiel's eyes. He held them with his own, looking at him in a way that was searching and curious. "Well, that's the easy way of looking at things. It doesn't always work like that, though."

Castiel didn't blink, just squeezed the hand on Dean's knee lightly, smiling up at him with their eyes still locked in that gaze. "Why not? You have control over what you focus on, and if you chose to focus on making yourself happy, then no one else can tell you that you’re wrong."

"It's not that, it's just...it hasn't been my focus for a long time, and I guess I never bothered to make it one." Dean shrugged it off. "Say, I'm pretty hungry. How about you, hm?"

Castiel almost pointed out the change of subject, but decided against it as he shook his head. "No, but I'm quite tired."

Dean frowned. "You should really eat. It's my job to make sure you get better, and I doubt you'll get better very quickly if you don't eat something." He stood, heading for the kitchen. "I'm just gonna make a sandwich, you sure you don't want anything?"

“I am fine. The food at the clinic helped.” Castiel told him as he stood and walked towards the kitchen, limping.

Dean dove forward on reflex, wrapping and arm around Castiel's waist to hold him up with his weight bearing toward the left. "Whoa, there, slow down! Doc said no walking on that ankle, go sit back down and relax, okay?"

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't see why I can't walk. I'm perfectly fine."

"You have a broken ankle, Cas." Dean chided, the nickname out before he even caught it. He tried to usher the angel back to the couch. "C'mon, I'm serious; you need to chill for the rest of the night. No walking, nothing strenuous. Doctor's orders."

Castiel caught Dean's arm. "I don't like being alone. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I'm right here. I'm just going to the kitchen for some food." Dean looked at the pathetic expression on Castiel's face and sighed. "All right, listen. You can come into the kitchen with me, but I want you to keep your weight off that ankle, okay?"

"Thank you." Castiel replied, moving to the kitchen and sitting up on the counter. "You said earlier that your home was not equipped with angel living quarters."

Dean was leaning into the fridge as he listened. He grabbed a handful of things, setting them out on the counter as he set to work on making a sandwich. "Yeah, listen...I was thinking of taking the couch so you could have more room for your wings, or whatever. I have a king-size bed, so you can spread out and stuff." He threw a hand up that was holding a butter knife smothered in mayo, as if to stop Castiel from interrupting. "And don't give me that 'I couldn't possibly impose' crap, all right? I have a very comfortable couch and I am more than willing to sleep there to give you whatever space you need."

Castiel looked at him critically. "As much as I appreciate your offer, I would like it if you stayed with me."

Dean halted as he dropped the knife into the sink. “Stayed…with you?”

“Isn’t it common practice for humans to share a bed, to provide comfort for one another?” Castiel asked.

Dean focused on cutting the tomato slices perfectly for his sandwich, putting far too much effort into the whole thing just to keep his mind off of what he was agreeing to. 'He's an angel', he told himself. 'He just needs comfort, he doesn't mean what you think he means, so calm the hell down, Winchester!'

"Uh, yeah, Cas. Whatever makes you most comfortable."

Castiel looked down. “You have already done more for me than I can ever repay.”

Dean finished up constructing his sandwich and turned to the angel, giving an uneasy, but genuine smile. "It's fine, Cas. I want you to get a good night's sleep and start healing." And if that meant it was angel cuddle time, well, Dean was gonna man up and deal with it.

Castiel nodded. "I'll let you finish your meal."

"Sounds like a plan." Dean replied agreeably. He ate his sandwich and washed it down with a beer before turning back to Cas. "Hey, you should probably wash up before we head to bed. I'm sure you want to get the grime of that cage off you."

Castiel flushed, looking down at his feet. "I cannot. I would need assistance…and I don't wish to ask you for that. You've already done so much."

"I can help." Dean said, more defensively than he intended. "I may not know how to properly bind a wound or set a bone, but I've helped clean an angel off before. C'mon."

Dean took the angel's hand and led him to the bathroom, which was thankfully fairly large, considering it was a one-person apartment. "Sit on the edge of the tub with your feet in it. I'll get some washcloths."

Castiel bit his lip, nodding slowly as he moved to sit on the edge of the tub. This was surely not normal by human standards, but Dean said he’d helped angels before. This wasn’t entirely new to him.

Dean returned a short while later with a large plastic bowl filled with rags and a folded pair of medical scrub pants he'd retrieved from the duffel bag Amelia had packed for him. He sat on the edge of the tub next to Castiel, mindful of his wings. He put the bowl under the faucet and the rags in his lap with the pants being draped on the towel rack.

"Just tell me if I'm being too rough." Dean told him. He turned on the water to fill up the bowl and waited until it was warm before dunking one of the rags in. He rung it out and started with Castiel's nearest arm, dragging the cloth across the skin gingerly like he was something precious. Castiel couldn't help but blush; Dean was treating him like something that could break at any moment…he couldn't of course, but it was nice to be treated with that kind of care. It was a kindness he had never been shown before.

Dean continued over the angel's shoulders, stopping every once in a while to rinse off the rag and ring it out again. He moved to kneel behind the angel and dragged the cloth down Castiel's back, first over, then between and finally under his wings without touching the wings themselves. The feathers looked a bit mangled and dirty, but he knew angel wings were off-limits and didn't go near them.

"Are you...feeling any better?" Dean asked, just to fill the silence as he moved to Castiel's other arm.

Castiel bit his lip. "Yes. I feel…better, in your presence."

Dean smiled, flushing slightly as he finished cleaning him up. With all the dirt and grime gone, the angel already looked much better…but his wings were still disheveled and unruly, just like his hair. Dean went to the sink and washed his hands, then held the clothes out for the angel. "Here, why don't you change, and I'll get the bed ready?"

Castiel nodded, stepping out of the tub and slowly drying himself off, he dressed in the clothing, which was a little too big, and moved to the bedroom. Dean had gotten some extra pillows out of his closet and set them on the side of the bed he usually didn't sleep on. He changed into his own pajamas, which were really just a pair of sweats and a grey tank, and turned to the door as Cas walked in.

"Which side do you want?" Dean asked.

"Whichever one you don't.” Castiel shrugged, ending up flopped down on the center of the bed. He was tired.

Dean laughed lightly, sitting down on the side to Castiel's left. "Do you need anything before we turn in?"

Castiel shook his head. "I don't think so." He said softly, turning to face Dean with a smile.

Dean leaned back against his own pillows, lying so that he was turned toward Cas, but that his back was pretty much on the end of the bed. He figured the angel needed a lot more room because of his wings. "Well, if you need anything, I don't care if it's the middle of the night; you wake me up and tell me, okay?"

Castiel nodded, unconsciously laying one wing over Dean as his eyes closed. "Thank you."

Dean felt instantly comforted by the warmth of being enveloped in that wing, and he reached over to turn off the light on his nightstand. "Good night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean." He said softly, before falling sleep.

Dean would be lying if he said he fell asleep right away. It took him at least an hour to doze off, despite the comfort the angel seemed to provide him. He found himself cataloging every twitch and shudder of the creature next to him, concerned that he was in pain or otherwise uncomfortable. But Castiel seemed content to doze next to him, breathing softly, and Dean slept through the night without interruption for the first time in a long while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that this chapter is half Destiel and then the POV transitions to Sabriel. I was going to make them separate chapters but the segue worked so well that I didn’t need to. I should probably note as well that although Destiel is still pre-slash in this fic, Sabriel is already established by the time this starts. I probably could have gotten away with something more implied and less explicit than this, but there's so little Sabriel out there that I decided to make it more, er, graphic. So, this chapter is rated M for Sabriel smut!

When Castiel awoke, he realized in his tired form he'd wrapped Dean up in his wings. Carefully, he extracted himself from the human and moved to sit on the side of the bed. Dean himself was a fairly light sleeper and found himself waking up when the warmth of the angel's wings left him. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes enough to glance at his alarm clock: it was mid-morning. Well, it seemed as if Castiel had slept through the night. That had to be a good sign. The angel was sitting on the other side of the bed now, and Dean regarded with interest that most of his bruises had faded and he looked much healthier already.

"Morning." He managed, his voice still rough from sleep. "Sleep okay?"

Castiel nodded slowly. "Very much so, thank you. How did you sleep? I hope my wings didn't disturb you."

Dean huffed a laugh. "I slept great, actually. Your wings weren't in my way or anything, don't sweat it. Can I make you some breakfast? I'm starved." He stood and stretched with a satisfied groan as his muscles relaxed.

Castiel shrugged, "I can cook if you would like. I've been told I make acceptable omelets."

"I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you this weekend, Cas." Dean chided as he headed into the kitchen. "I'm not gonna have you cook. You're a guest in my house. But if you like omelets, I can make you one."

Castiel stood carefully, limping out after Dean. "But I would like to." He replied softly, sitting up on the counter again. "I would like to repay you for this."

"You can repay me by not putting any weight on that ankle." Dean said sternly, staring at the appendage pointedly. "And when you're all healed up, then, if you still want to, you can make me breakfast."

Castiel nodded. “All right.”

Dean ducked into the fridge and pulled out the carton of eggs. "So, what do you like in your omelets?"

Castiel watched Dean as he moved throughout the kitchen. "Cheddar cheese and red peppers."

"You got it." Dean replied, setting out all the supplies and chopping the veggies before getting to work. He made Castiel's first, then made himself one with bacon, cheddar and tomatoes. "Coffee, tea or juice?"

Castiel paused, not accustomed to being asked to name his preferences. "Tea, please."

Dean nodded and dug his kettle out of the cabinet to the right of the stove (he never used the damn thing much himself) and washed it off before setting it on the stove. He plated the omelets and went to his pantry. "I’ve got English Breakfast, Chamomile and Green tea."

Castiel wasn’t really sure. "English Breakfast, I suppose.”

"Cream and sugar?" Dean asked as he poured the tea into a nondescript black mug.

Castiel shrugged. "Sure."

Dean nodded and poured himself some OJ, then set everything up on his counter where he had a small bar along the back of the sink set up with stools. He motioned for Castiel to join him, holding out a hand to help him. Castiel took Dean's hand, limping to the seat and smiling. 

Dean helped Castiel into a stool before sitting down himself and starting on his food. "Well, we've got a lot of time to spend indoors this weekend. We'll have to figure out what to do to keep from getting bored. Do you like movies? Or reading?"

Castiel shrugged, "I don't do much of anything Dean; I'm a slave."

Dean winced. "I'm sorry.” It was just so beyond fucked up in his mind that he always had trouble wrapping his head around the idea. “You never developed any hobbies? Sammy tells me his angel drives him crazy with the crappy television shows he watches obsessively."

Castiel shook his head.

"Well, then...we're gonna find stuff for you to like." Dean said with a firm nod. "Anything you've ever wanted to try?"

Castiel stared at his food, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, then. You said you’ve never seen a movie?” Dean clarified.

“I have…caught glimpses, while working under certain humans. But I have never witnessed an entire film.” Castiel told him.

Dean nodded. “All right then, movie day it is.”

Castiel gave a somewhat uneasy smile, picking at his food.

After eating in companionable silence, Dean found himself giving the angel a once-over as he drank his OJ, now that he was under the bright lights of the kitchen. "Angel mojo never ceases to amaze me. You look a lot better already. Are you feeling like you're healing up?"

Castiel nodded, having heard the human slang for angel Grace before. "Yes. I feel much better now."

"Good...once those bones set, we can think about some physical therapy to get you back into tip-top shape." Dean said with a nod.

"What kind of therapy?" Castiel asked softly.

"That's more Amelia's turf. She's certified in all that physical therapy stuff. So's Benny. They basically just give you exercises and stuff to help with getting your range of motion back." Dean explained. "It's not as necessary as it is with humans, but it helps for really bad injuries. I had to go through it myself when I broke my leg a couple years back."

Castiel paused, but nodded. "I see." 

They finished their food in silence, and once Dean was done and could see Castiel was, too, he stood up and clapped his hands together. “Okay, well, c’mon then. You and I are spending the day with George Lucas.”

\- - -

Dean and Castiel spent the next thirteen hours on the couch watching the Star Wars Saga in chronological order (because as much as Dean had his qualms about the prequels, even he knew they served an integral purpose to the plot, and somehow trying to explain to an angel why they were watching them backwards seemed like a daunting task). Castiel went from completely uninterested to entirely enthralled by the end of the first film. He asked Dean what seemed like a thousand questions, most of which Dean brushed off with a “You’ll see.” or a “Keep watching!” Since his television was viewable from the kitchen, Dean didn’t even have to stop the films to make them both lunch and eventually, dinner. 

It was dark outside by the time the credits rolled on Episode VI, and Dean stood, taking up their dishes from dinner and bringing them to the kitchen. "Well, Cas, what'd you think?"

"Humans put a lot of effort into their storytelling." Castiel said with eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You are saying that none of these things, in fact, occurred, and that it was the work of actors and recording devices?"

"Yeah, with computer effects. Pretty cool, huh?" Dean replied somewhat excitedly. He was always pretty thrilled to introduce someone to Star Wars, but introducing them to movies as a whole was a big deal.

"And is there a particular purpose to creating these elaborate films?" Castiel asked, not really getting it from the look on his face.

Dean shrugged. "It's just entertainment, man. There's no real reason, it's just for people to watch and enjoy."

Castiel nodded pensively. "I see."

And that was when it hit Dean that humans, as a whole, were pretty damn petty. It's not like it was news to him in theory, but in that moment, the concept became very real to him. Humans were fickle creatures that valued entertainment over the well-being of another species, and used angels for not only labor, but entertainment, an idea that Castiel couldn't even comprehend in his own culture.

Dean dropped the dishes into the sink with a disdainful clatter.

"Would you like some assistance?" Castiel asked out of habit, standing and walking to the kitchen with ease.

Dean was about to chastise him for offering when he noticed how he was walking. "Hey, your limp is gone."

"My bones have fully healed." Castiel replied matter-of-factly, glancing down at his own form. "And I am no longer so severely malnourished. This day of rest has assisted considerably."

"Awesome. But you should still take it easy." Dean told him, taking him in under the kitchen lights. He looked a lot less thin already, and his bruises were completely gone now. He must not have noticed them fading throughout the day. The only thing that was off about him were his wings; they weren't bent at odd angles anymore where the bones had set, but the feathers were still matted, wild and somewhat dirty.

Castiel noticed Dean's eyes on him and stared at the floor. "I am sorry. My wings are uncared for. I am afraid it has been a long time since I was in the presence of a brother or sister to assist me in grooming them."

"Huh? Oh, no...it's fine, Cas. I was just noticing they don't look broken anymore." Dean lied quickly.

Castiel grimaced. "You cannot lie to an angel, Dean."

Sure enough, angels had a sort of sixth sense to them that was tied to their Grace that allowed them to glean feelings off of a human soul. Dean frowned. "It's not a problem, Cas. I just wish there were more I could do for you."

“Perhaps…there is.” Castiel said softly. “You could help me…groom them.”

Dean halted. "Me? Groom your wings? You're sure? I don't...I don't know the first thing about wings, I don't wanna screw it up or..."

Castiel gave a determined nod. "You can’t make them any worse, Dean. But only if you want to; I do not wish to make you uncomfortable."

Dean had made it a point to never touch an angel's wing before...it was something intimate and sacred. "It...it would be a privilege, Cas. Are you sure it's okay?"

Castiel offered the slightest of smiles, nodding. "I would be eternally thankful."

Dean cleared his throat. "Okay."

All right, so he was fucking nervous. Wings were a big deal...even in a house where angels were slaves, either they did it themselves, or they groomed each other. Castiel’s case was beyond self-repair, and he’d need help. But humans weren’t supposed to touch angel wings; somewhere along the line of treating the creatures like dirt, humans worked it out that angel wings were extremely sensitive…ticklish, even. They could easily cause an angel discomfort if mishandled. So, much like caressing a human’s backside in public, it became a bit of a taboo to touch an angel’s wings, slaves or not. That is, unless your intent was to harm. Many slave masters and angel trainers had perfected the type of torture one could inflict on an angel’s wings, but it rarely came down to it, as angels were naturally submissive, and tended to fold before their wings even needed to be threatened.

Dean at least knew he'd have to get the dirt and blood off first and then he'd have to moisturize them with either mousse or oil. He wondered absently if Amelia even packed him any of that. “Why don’t you go sit in the tub, like last night? I’ll be right in.”

Castiel nodded and did as he was told. Dean tracked down the duffel bag and dug through it until he found a small bottle with a pump on the top and a label with little a little cartoon angel reading. ‘Wing Mousse’. He could practically kiss Amelia for truly having thought of just about everything. He grabbed the duffel, along with some more clean rags, and headed into the bathroom. Cas was sitting obediently on the edge of the tub, his feet sitting on the cool porcelain surface while the longest feathers at the tips of his wings brushed against the bathmat. He grabbed the bowl he’d used last night and rinsed it out in the sink before setting it back under the faucet in the tub to fill it with warm water.

“If it hurts, or I do anything wrong, I want you to tell me, okay?” Dean said softly as he knelt behind Castiel’s left wing and dipped one of the rags into the warm water.

Castiel nodded, trying to stop himself from trembling nervously.

Dean hesitated for a split second before bringing the rag up and stroking it gently along a particularly bloody feather. The crimson wiped away to reveal a true, deep black. He continued the action, focusing on the top of the wing first and working his way down, his touch impossibly light. Castiel had closed his eyes…his wings had not been groomed in such a long time, and never with such care. The sensation was overwhelming. As Dean's hands moved towards the base of his wings, he let out a stuttered breath.

Dean halted when he heard and felt Castiel hitch, pulling his hands away. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I can stop."

Castiel shook his head. "No…don't stop, please."

Dean looked at him questioningly before obeying, moving to the other wing. Once he'd finished with the backs of them, he stepped into the tub and settled on his knees between Castiel's legs, reaching over his shoulders to get to the inner sides of the wings.

"Is this okay?" He asked, doing his best to reach as much of the wing as he could.

Castiel looked away; from this angle, Dean could see his red face with his lips swollen from biting them, open as he panted out heavily. "It's fine." He said softly, leaning his head down on Dean's shoulder so he couldn’t look him in the eyes.

Dean stiffened slightly at the gesture but continued until Castiel's wings were clear of blood and dirt. The feathers were still a little matted and needed to be combed through and oiled so they didn't dry out. He reached out of the tub into the duffel bag and rummaged through it for the wing mousse Amelia had packed for him.

"I'm gonna comb in this moisturizing stuff...so, uh...just tell me to stop if it hurts or tickles or whatever." Dean said quietly.

Castiel nodded slowly. "It doesn't hurt. It feels…nice."

Dean smiled. "Well, thanks for small favors, hm?"

Dean figured Cas had felt enough pain at the hands of humans, so he was happy to do the opposite. He set the mousse on the side of the tub after lathering up his hands and gingerly stroked along the top ridge of the wings, smoothing the feathers down. Castiel groaned softly, his head falling down again.

Dean hesitated once more, making sure it was a good sound and not a bad one before moving down the wing. He lathered up his hands again and buried them in the body of the appendage, stroking his fingers down through the feathers like a large-tooth comb. He slid all the way to the tips of the wings before starting back up at the top and repeating the process.

Castiel bit at his lip, screwing his eyes shut and gasping out a breathless, "Dean."

Dean's hands were out of Castiel's wings quick as lighting. "Sorry, sorry..."

Castiel groaned at the loss. "No, don't...don't be. It didn't hurt...it..." Castiel paused to catch his breath. "It feels good."

Dean's hands hovered over the wings and he blinked in confusion. Oh. Oh. Now he understood why angels didn't willingly let humans touch their wings. It wasn’t just a special angel-only thing…it was literally intimate. He took a moment to collect himself before lathering more mousse onto his hands and moving onto the other wing. He treated it with the same care as the first; turning the feathers so they all faced the same direction, soothing the unruly ones, combing through the length of it until they shimmered.

Part of him tried a little harder, though, knowing how this felt to Cas. He was always good at massages (past girlfriends had attested to that, even going so far as to say he had ‘magic fingers’), and he figured this was pretty similar. He let himself use a little more pressure along the top curve of bone, soothed his hands down and buried them in the body of the wing. He grabbed a fist-full of feathers and gingerly squeezed, working in the mousse. Castiel let out strangled yelp that became an unmistakable moan, his legs tightening around Dean’s ribs until his knees dug into the human’s sides. Dean glanced down to see his hands were gripping the side of the tub until his knuckles went white. At this rate, he’d crack the porcelain.

Dean released his hold on the feathers and combed his fingers down the length of the wings again. He felt Castiel relax around him and the angel let out a shaky breath against his neck. Dean worked a little more mousse into his hands and cupped them over the outer edge of the wing, dragging them down to the tips and working in the last bit of product. Castiel shivered, getting a handle on his breathing with a little effort. After a few more moments, Dean stood and stepped out of the tub to the sink. 

"I'm sorry about…that." Castiel said softly, turning so that he could see Dean in his peripheral vision.

"It's okay, Cas. I just didn't know if I was doing something wrong. I'm not exactly an expert on the subject." Dean lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed until the mousse came off. “Do they feel a little better, now that they’re clean?”

“Yes, thank you.” Castiel replied, his voice rougher than usual. He shook them out slightly and the feathers ruffled in a way that Dean refused to admit to himself was kind of adorable.

Dean dried off his hands on the nearby towel rack and finally looked the angel in the eyes. “If your bones are set, we can get you out of those bindings, you know.”

Cas barely nodded, turning so that he was sitting with his feet out of the tub and the tips of his wings in the tub itself. He made to bend down and untie the bandaging on his ankle, but Dean was quicker, crouching before the angel and pulling his foot into his lap. He cradled the appendage like something precious and fragile, gingerly untying the wrap and unwinding it from his leg.

Castiel watched as Dean removed the bandage and tossed it into the nearby waste basket, taking a moment to smooth both hands over the curve of his ankle and the jut of the fibula. Angels were different from humans, but somehow, very much the same. He knew from Amelia that they had identical bone structures, save for the addition of their wings and the thicker density of those bones. Physics said it should be impossible for them to fly without a hollow-bone structure like birds, but physics also couldn’t explain how they could heal a minor wound on another person with a touch. And no one could ever explain to Dean what made it okay to enslave a race as beautiful as the angels.

After too long, he set Castiel’s foot down gingerly on the bathmat and moved to his chest. The bindings over his ribs were tied at the front, so he unknotted the bandage and slid on his knees into the space between Castiel’s legs again. He reached over his shoulder and then under his arm as he unwound the medical tape, his knuckles brushing through the angel’s feathers on every other pass or so. Cas trembled with each touch, obediently moving his arms each time Dean needed him to. It didn’t take long for him to rid the angel almost entirely of the bandages, and soon, just his abdomen was covered.

Dean took Castiel’s hands into his own and stood, hauling them both up so he could unwrap the rest of the tape. His fingers absently traced over the lines on what was now exposed of the angel’s chest as he moved down to the seam of the remaining bindings, feather-light on the ridges of pale scar tissue. Every angel had sigils on their chest or back. From what Dean was explained, the angels who ran things in Heaven carved them into the flesh of each angel sold into bondage, so they didn’t have the power to harm a human. Because of an angel’s ability to heal, the sigils faded almost entirely, leaving only pale lines in the skin.

“Yours are different from the ones I’ve seen.” Dean said, his voice barely over a whisper.

Castiel stared at the floor. “Mine were…personal.”

Dean removed the last of the tape, dropping it into the tiny trashcan. Castiel’s sigils were huge, taking up most of his chest and down into his abdomen. Most angels just had a smaller circle or symbol on their chest or back, but his were massive in comparison. They were hardly visible, even in the bright light of the bathroom, just barely a shade pinker than his skin, and he hadn’t even been able to see them at all when the angel was covered in dirt and grime.

“Always been rebellious, then?” Dean asked quietly, his index finger still tracing the pattern absently.

“Disobedience has always earned stern punishment in Heaven.” Castiel answered.

Dean’s hand moved up to gently crane the angel’s head back, forcing him to look at him. His thumb petted at Castiel’s temple and into his hair, his expression serious. “Cas, as long as I have a say-so, you’re never getting punished again. You got that?”

Castiel met Dean’s emerald eyes and felt the determination in them. It was a promise he could count on Dean keeping. The angel just nodded, wanting to look away but finding that he didn’t have the strength to.

Their staring contest was interrupted moments later by the guitar riffs of AC/DC, and Dean realized it was his phone. Sam was calling him. He headed out into the living room to find his cell, picking it up just as the chorus was ending. Cas followed him out, standing off to the side as if unsure where he should be.

“Hey, what’s up, bro?” Dean’s tone was casual, and he met Castiel’s eyes as if to tell him it was fine for him to witness the conversation. Angels were pretty touchy when it came to respecting a human’s privacy. 

"Dean, where are you?" Sam’s tone was anything but casual, and Dean would be lying if he said it didn’t worry him just a little.

"Home, why? What's wrong?"

Sam could be heard clicking on his computer as he spoke. "I was just reviewing the paperwork for the Lawrence angel sanctuary and Amelia put in a file yesterday for an angel called Castiel. Her notes say you're fostering him?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean relaxed a bit. His brother was probably just calling to give him a speech about how proud he was of him or something else sappy like that. Typical Sam.

"This angel, is he still with you?" Sam asked, tone still concerning, which was weird.

Dean hesitated, eyes flicking over to said angel. "Yeah, I've got him all weekend." Castiel looked petrified at being mentioned, but Dean gave him a reassuring sort of look, which seemed to calm him down a bit.

"Good. Don't go anywhere. Gabe and I are flying out tonight to see you." Sam said it so nonchalantly that it threw him for a loop.

"What? Why?" Dean balked. He started pacing somewhat nervously. "Sammy, what's going on?"

"There's nothing wrong and it's nothing bad, but it's vital that we meet with you this weekend." Sam told him. "Just trust me on this, Dean. And take care of that angel. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Dean was still sputtering into the phone by the time Sam hung up. He was sure his brother had questions, but they’d just have to wait. The younger Winchester turned to the angel who was leaning on the doorjamb of his home office.

"Y'know, you could've been a little less vague. Knowing your brother, he's probably having a cow right now." Gabriel said, popping a Hershey's Kiss into his mouth. He crumpled the foil into a little ball and tossed it into the tiny trashcan next to the desk, hitting the mark effortlessly despite being across the room.

"You never know who can hear us." Sam replied gravely, turning his office chair to face the computer so he could finish booking their flight.

"I told you, angel radio is off. They don't even know I'm alive, and they've already carved Castiel up with sigils if he's a slave." Gabriel tapped the side of his head with one finger as he spoke. "Our actions are hidden from Heaven and the angels."

"It's not just the angels I'm worried about." Sam replied, holding out a hand for Gabriel. The angel walked around the desk and took it before sliding into Sam's lap. He carded a hand through Sam's ridiculously long hair, pulling his head against his chest.

"You found him, though. Now that we have Castiel, our entire operation just became a whole lot more possible." Gabriel said, massaging the other man's scalp with his fingertips.

"We don't know for sure that it's him." Sam reminded him quietly.

"As I've told you, angels don't share names...that's why you can't call me Gabriel in public." Gabriel leaned over to click Sam's computer mouse over to the Excel spreadsheet with the angel files. "Name, Castiel: hair, dark brown. Eyes, blue. Wings, black. It's him. Trust me."

"You know I do." Sam murmured, kissing the seam on Gabriel's shirt that his mouth was closest to. The angel draped his wings around the human, gleaming white feathers tipped in gold brushing the other man's cheek. After a moment, Sam spoke again. "You really think he can help you end the slavery?"

"Castiel was the leader of the rebellion against Raphael. His garrison was known throughout Heaven as being filled with the fiercest warriors. He trained under Michael himself." Gabriel replied hopefully. "If anyone can do it, it's Castiel."

"And you really think Michael and Lucifer are out there somewhere?" Sam asked, bringing a hand up to stroke through the longest feathers on Gabriel's right wing.

The archangel shivered, arching involuntarily into the touch. "I know they are. When an angel dies, it's felt throughout Heaven. Every angel experiences the loss, and every angel causes one. Seraphs and cherubs aren't as obvious or painful; more like a bad feeling, or a pull in the back of your mind. But an archangel...especially the two most powerful...we all would have felt it."

Sam hummed in understanding, craning his head up to kiss the tender pulse-point on Gabriel's neck. "I got us the red eye out of LAX; I figure we can sleep on the plane."

"Is that a come-on?" Gabriel teased, hand tightening in Sam's hair. "'Cause I taught you better than that, Samsquatch."

"Just saying, we've got time 'till we have to be at the airport..." Sam added, kissing a trail up to Gabriel's ear as he continued petting at his wings. The angel shivered under his caress, flicking a hand over his shoulder. The door to Sam's office shut and locked in one swift motion from across the room. Sam looked up at him with a smirk. "Always concerned about my reputation..."

"Not my fault your PA decides to drop in unannounced all the time." Gabriel admonished as he worked to get the buttons open on Sam's dress shirt. He loosened his tie, pulling it over his head and tossing it across the room.

"Ruby's just doing her job." Sam replied as he relieved Gabriel of his shirt. Angel garments were somewhat complicated, but involved more wrapping than actual buttoning or zipping like human clothes, since they had to accommodate for the wings. So with just a couple tugs, Gabriel was shirtless while the archangel was still working Sam out of his own clothing.

"Ruby creeps me out. She hates me. She only plays nice when you're around." Gabriel whined, finally shoving the shirt off Sam's shoulders and all but ripping his undershirt over his head.

"She's dedicated, and a hard-ass. I need someone who has guts with my platform. I'm not exactly the most popular guy in Washington." Sam countered, standing and taking Gabe with him. He set the angel down on his near-impeccable desk, shoving away what few papers were in his way before working the angel's pants over his hips and off to pool on the floor.

"No more business-talk.” Gabriel said breathlessly, hands moving to grip Sam’s neck and pull him down into a kiss. This effectively silenced him, but the way the younger Winchester was grinding against the angel caused his wings to thrash, nearly knocking over his computer.

“What am I gonna do with those wings of yours, Gabe?” Sam ‘tsk’ed, flipping the angel over so he was lying on his stomach over the desk with his wings stretched out above him. Sam grabbed the joints of the wings and gently folded them against Gabriel’s back, stroking through them in a combing motion that made the angel keen and arch back into him.

“Hard to keep them still when you do that…” Gabriel panted out, flesh and feathers both shivering under the caresses. He could hear Sam’s belt being unbuckled and heard it drop to the floor with a puddle of fabric. When the human rutted against him again, the contact was skin-on-skin, and it made him whimper.

“Just try not to destroy my office with them…could you mojo up some-” Sam didn’t even have to finish the thought when Gabriel’s left hand shot up and twirled mid-air, suddenly holding a tube of lubricant. He took the bottle and smirked at him. “Thought you promised not to read my mind anymore.”

“Didn’t need to, Sammy. It’s all in the body language.” The angel emphasized his point by grinding his hips back against Sam’s erection, and yeah, he had a point there. An angel unhindered by sigils could read thoughts and even glean images from a human’s mind, not that he needed to. Although lower-class angels could only see what was on a human’s mind at the time, an archangel could sift through every thought human had ever had. And Gabriel had to admit, he did kind of do that when he first met Sam.

Gabriel didn’t need to do that now, though. It was pretty damn clear what was going through Sam’s mind as he slicked up his fingers and brought them down to the cleft of his ass, probing in a manner that was somehow gentle and yet, teasing. He circled it a few times before finally sliding in just his middle finger. The digit went with ease, as it wasn’t the first time, and with practiced motions, Sam worked him open and added a second finger. He pumped them in and out in slow drags, meant to tease and prepare.

“Sam, how many times—fuck! I’ve told you, you can’t hurt me, you don’t need to—” Gabriel’s protests petered off into moans as Sam scissored his fingers and found that bundle of nerves that had the angel bucking underneath him. He had to keep a hand buried inside the soft down of his left wing to keep it from thrashing while Gabriel clutched at the right, curled it around himself and practically laid on the feathers just to spare Sam’s computer from being shoved off the desk by it.

“I don’t care if your tolerance for pain is higher than a human’s, that doesn’t mean I’ll subject you to it.” Sam’s digits curled just right inside him, and any further protests died in Gabriel’s throat. The archangel was reduced to moaning and writhing on the desk as Sam worked him open, adding a third finger and applying lube liberally. He would never get used to the way the human spoiled him, but he was damn well going to enjoy it when he did.

After a few more agonizingly perfect minutes, Gabriel turned so that he could catch Sam in his peripheral vision, looking and sounding uncharacteristically desperate. “Please, Sam. Now.”

The last word was more of the commanding archangel tone Sam was used to and he smirked, obliging. He removed his fingers and slicked up his cock before nudging at Gabriel’s entrance. The angel keened, arching back and letting go of his wing to slam his palm down against the desk. Sam dove forward as the wing lashed out toward his flat-screen monitor and gripped the joint, wrangling it in against Gabriel’s back. With both hands buried in the angel’s wings and his cock now sheathed to the hilt inside him, Gabriel positively mewled. Sam dipped down to kiss the small patch of flesh between the wings on his back, feeling how the angel’s muscles rippled under his attentions.

Gabriel’s back arched to meet his thrusts, agonizingly slow as he found a suitable rhythm. It was somehow too much and yet simultaneously, not enough. The leisurely grind of Sam pulling almost all the way out before sliding entirely back in was much too sluggish for his liking, and he gave a frustrated growl while shoving his hips back.

“Fuck me, dammit!” Gabriel all but snarled, pushing himself up on the desk as much as he could to rut his hips back into Sam.

Sam didn’t even know why he bothered with the slow-going anymore. As much as he and Gabriel were connected on a much deeper level, when it came to sex, Gabe was always the one leaning more towards ‘fucking’ than ‘making love’. But Sam had no qualms appeasing his angel, and pacified him by doing just that; picking up his pace to the level that he liked. He settled into a fast an dirty rhythm, hips snapping forward and pounding Gabriel into the desk with every thrust.

"Nn...Gabriel, shit..." Sam felt himself getting close and wrapped his hands around a fistful of feathers, squeezing hard. Gabriel absolutely shrieked in pleasure into the crook of his own elbow, trying in vain to be somewhat quiet in case Ruby had stopped by. It was pointless, really, because with each light tug of those feathers, Gabriel was falling apart beneath him, gripping the end of the desk until the wood cracked.

"Sam—fuck, Sammy, close your eyes!" Gabriel panted out over his shoulder. Their eyes locked, and Sam did as he was told. A moment later, Gabriel was groaning and coming hard across the desk. White light emanated from him, filling the room in a blinding, pale hue. Sam could feel instantly enveloped by that light, which burned like fire but somehow held a comforting warmth beyond anything on earth. It was that, more that Gabriel's physical body tightening around him that pushed him over the edge, and he came inside the archangel with a shudder. 

The light faded rapidly and Sam blinked, moving his hands out of Gabriel's wings to plant them on either side of him on the desk as he caught his breath. The angel, too, seemed winded as he struggled to push himself up. Sam wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against his chest, allowing them both to flop down into his ridiculously large, leather chair.

After a moment of sitting in the silent office with just the sound of their breathing in unison, Gabriel waved his hand. The cracks and stains on the desk disappeared, but the door remained firmly locked. He laid his head back to look up at Sam. “I saw you trying to keep your eyes open. Don’t do that; my Grace could blind you. You know that.”

Sam sighed. “I know, Gabe, it’s just…it’s you, okay? I wish I could see it.”

Gabriel just chuckled, mouthing a kiss on his sweaty shoulder. “You humans are so stubborn.”

“Just for things we’re passionate about.” Sam retorted, offering an apologetic smile.

Gabriel snorted. “Yeah, yeah. It’s all fun and games until someone gets their eyes burned out.”

Sam huffed a laugh at that, stroking his knuckles absently down Gabriel’s arm. They sat like that for a long while, as they often did, basking in the mutual connection. Sam in Gabriel’s Grace and Gabriel in Sam’s soul. Neither one seemed to know why or how, but a bond had formed there that neither could explain. Not that they needed to, though; they were completely content to just bask in the feeling of it.

“Come on.” Sam said quietly after a long while, not sounding nearly as motivated as he was trying for. “We’ve got a plane to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to you if you catch the references to some of my favorite fics here. The Star Wars scene was definitely inspired by An Exercise in Worthless, which is a phenomenal fic that you should go read right now if you haven’t already. The wing-grooming scene is a nod to my absolute favorite wingfic, hardcorewings.com. And of course, smaller references to fics and canon are littered throughout.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I really want to apologize for not updating this very frequently. I’ve got a longstanding Destiel AU RP that has been sucking up most of my time after work, and that combined with all the costumes I’ve had to make in the past few months, working my full-time job and working as the Cosplay Events Coordinator for an event company that puts on several shows a year nationally…it just means I’ve had 0 time for this fic. I hit a kind of mental block with this chapter for the longest time, so I worked on other things, but when SPN started back up, decided I should just power through it and quit whining. I know it’s almost a year late, but, well…it’s here. So anyway without further rambling, here’s the next chapter, and I do hope to have this baby finished sooner rather than later.

Sam really didn't like flying. It wasn't that he was petrified of airplanes like his brother (who would never own up to it), but traveling, especially with an angel, always made him uneasy. He had to provide all sorts of paperwork for Gabriel since he was technically a ward and not owned property, since Sam refused to file him that way, and not to mention that his paperwork was more than a little fudged (his name was listed as Loki for his protection). 

Selfishly, Sam also hated the stupid seats. They were always too cramped for his long legs and angels had to fly in the back, where there was even less legroom (the airline used the excuse of the wings taking up too much room in the aisles in the case of an emergency, but Sam knew better. Angels were property, and therefore not worth saving to them if anything did happen. Sam just scowled bitterly to himself, because it seemed he was reminded every day that most humans were ungrateful, ignorant dicks.

Somehow, despite the discomfort, he was able to fall asleep against Gabriel’s shoulder, wrapped up in one of the angel’s wings. He was certain the angel had done something to knock him out, but didn’t ask, because he was too grateful to look a gift horse in the mouth. When they landed in the early morning hours, he somehow felt completely rested and free of any soreness from sleeping in strange positions on the flight. He offered Gabriel a fond smile as a thank-you, and Gabriel just winked knowingly at him.

Gabriel shook out his wings the moment they got into the gate, stretching them in a gorgeous display of white and gold that sent Sam’s head spinning. Even onlookers were dazzled by the display, so Sam quickly led his ward to the exit to hail a cab. Gabriel teased him about being possessive, but Sam just rolled his eyes and insisted he was just a little protective.

Sam gave the cabbie the address for Dean’s apartment, and they were rolling up to the driveway in less than an hour. Dean was setting out breakfast for four with Castiel’s help when his doorbell rang.

Admittedly, the older Winchester was a bit nervous about the meeting since their phone call the night before, but all his worries vanished when he opened the door and saw his brother’s smiling face.

“Hey, Sammy!” Dean pulled the larger man into a hug, earning a pat on the back.

“Hey, Dean…how’s it going?” Sam asked as they pulled back.

“Good, good. Come on in.” Dean stepped out of the way so they could enter. He motioned to them as they came inside. “Castiel, my brother Sam, and—” 

“ _Gabriel_?” Castiel cut him off, staring at the angel in something between shock and wonderment.

“Hey, Cassie! Long time no see.” Gabriel replied with a grin, opening his arms.

Castiel ran into them, hugging him tightly. Sam swiftly took Dean from the room, pulling him out onto the porch and closing the curtains and glass door behind them. The younger Winchester explained it was so the angels could have some privacy, and kept Dean busy talking about campaign numbers and plenty of other dull subjects.

“Gabriel…we thought you were gone…with Michael and Lucifer…” Castiel was tearing up as he pulled back. “Y-your wings…?”

“Hiding their true form…gotta blend in. You should know, everyone except for Dean and Sammy knows me as Loki. It’s safer that way.” Gabriel explained. “Even Dean doesn’t know I’m an archangel…just thinks I’m an ordinary seraph.”

“Of course, of course…what happened to you, Gabriel? One day, you were fighting the war and the next, you were just…gone.” Castiel stared into his eyes searchingly, trying not to look betrayed but failing miserably.

Gabriel frowned at him. “One of Raphael’s cronies got ahold of me and took me to see the big boss-man. He wanted me to join him…think he knew he couldn’t take me on alone. But I also knew I couldn’t take him on alone. I refused, but he corned me. You know Raphy; he likes to fight dirty. I had no choice but to get the hell out of there. Ended up on Earth, hid my wings and tried to start a rebellion here. But…it was so far gone, bro. He carved ‘em up with sigils so they couldn’t fight back and then sold them into slavery to the humans. I’ve never seen anything like it…if Daddy were here—”

Castiel shook his head. “He’d never stand for it.”

“But I’ve got no clue where Michael and Lucifer are, and I can’t take back Heaven on my own.” Gabriel said, looking at him expectantly.

“That’s why you came here.” Castiel replied with a nod. “You need me to help you take Heaven back.”

“Bingo.” Gabriel clicked his tongue. “Sammy’s got some things in the works for me. Those angel clinics? They’re helping us build a rapport…show that all humans aren’t down with this slavery thing. And they had another purpose: helping me find the rebels, like you.”

Castiel huffed a laugh under his breath. “I’m afraid I’m no use to you now, brother. I am not…as I once was.”

“Aw, don’t be so glum.” Gabriel ran a finger down Castiel’s chest, and the seraph visibly startled. “There. Now the only thing those sigils will block is Angel Radio. They’ll still look the same, though, so no one’ll be the wiser.”

Castiel blinked at him. “Gabriel, this is—”

“Awesome, incredible, treasonous…I know. But you gotta keep this a secret, even from Dean-o. His brother doesn’t want him in on any of this war planning in case it goes south.” Gabriel told him.

Castiel nodded firmly. “I understand, brother. But when—”

“We don’t know yet.” Gabriel cut him off. “It’s still in planning stages. We’re working to try to find out where Michael and Lucifer went. Raphael insists they went off to find Dad, but I don’t believe that for a second…Lucifer’s always been a little rebellious, but Michael never would have defied God’s order to rule in his stead. Raphael’s gotta be behind this somehow.”

“I agree. What should I do, in the meantime?” Castiel asked.

Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head as he patted the angel’s shoulder. “Always been such a good little soldier, Cassie. Just…keep an eye on the clinic, bring in any angels you know you can trust, and keep Dean safe. Sam’s been worried sick about him since he’s been getting death-threats thanks to his campaign. He doesn’t want that bleeding over into Dean-o’s life, too.”

Castiel gave a resolute nod. “I’ll protect Dean with my life.”

“That’s the spirit.” Gabriel patted him one more time on the shoulder. “Now, how’s about we get some grub, hm? I’m starved.”

His brother went to the porch to give the other two men the green-light to come back inside. But when Dean returned to the room with Sam, Castiel froze in place. The man had offered him a questioning look, silently asking him if everything was all right, but all Castiel could do was stare.

The sigils carved into his Grace by Raphael had taken many things from him. The one he had noticed the least was his true sight. But now, standing before him, were two of the brightest souls that Castiel had ever laid his eyes upon. He could see why Gabriel had chosen to help Sam as he had; his soul was good and pure, his intentions clearly virtuous.

But Dean…Dean’s soul radiated unlike anything he had ever before witnessed. His soul burned brightly, strong and righteous behind his emerald eyes. Concern rolled off of his mind in waves, and that only made it shine brighter. Castiel realized belatedly that Dean’s feelings were rushing over him without him needing to concentrate on them. Surely if he tried, he would be able to read his thoughts entirely.

“Cas…everything okay?” Dean asked finally, worried by the lack of response.

The angel just blinked, smiling reverently as he continued to stare at him. “Yes. I’m very well, Dean. We should eat.”

Dean looked a little suspicious, but shrugged it off, nodding agreeably and heading for the table.

\- - -

Now that Dean had actually had a chance to talk to Sam, he was much less stressed about the entire situation. They chatted over breakfast, Castiel watching Dean worshipfully the entire time, before Sam made some excuse about an early meeting the next day and left. He knew Sam was a busy guy, but there was something guarded in his tone that Dean couldn’t help but notice. He found himself dwelling upon it only as long as it took him to close the door behind his brother before he noticed Castiel was washing the dishes and practically leapt over to assist him.

Despite that Castiel would basically be living in his home for free, he didn’t feel right letting the angel do housework. A lot of angel slaves were basically maids, so even if he wasn’t _telling_ Cas to help out around the apartment, it still felt completely wrong to let him do it alone. The angel insisted he did not resent helping him, and it was admittedly a little cramped in his kitchen with them both next to the sink thanks to those massive black wings, but they made it work, and when all the dishes were clean, Castiel asked in a sheepish voice if they could watch more films. Dean gladly introduced him to Indiana Jones.

Admittedly, having that as Castiel’s second-ever film series marathon was probably not the best idea, because it took Dean a good thirty minutes to explain that no, Han Solo and Indiana Jones were not related and no, Harrison Ford was not the only leading male actor in Hollywood. Once he’d cleared that up, Dean made them lunch, allowing the angel to only offer minor assistance.

The weekend went by as all lazy ones do…relaxed, but somehow over in a blink. Before Dean knew it, he and Cas were settling in for the night on Sunday. He was still getting used to sharing his bed with the angel, but other than his wings, Cas kept to his own side, so it wasn’t as awkward as it could have been.

“You have work in the morning.” Castiel said matter-of-factly, more a breach of subject than anything else.

Dean frowned, having been dreading that this conversation was coming. “Yeah…I figured I’d drop you off at the clinic in the morning and then come back like I usually do after my shift. I just don’t want you here all day by yourself.”

“We have only recently met…I understand that you cannot trust me in your home alone.” Castiel supplied, tone even.

“What? You—…no, Cas! That’s not it at all!” Dean turned to him fully, balking. “I just…Amelia wanted to check on your healing progress anyway, and I don’t think it’s good for you to be alone for so many hours yet.”

“I see…” Castiel seemed to think about that for a moment. “All right…you can bring me to the clinic tomorrow.”

Dean nodded, and they lapsed into a sort of awkward silence after that as they laid down for the night. Dean didn’t sleep nearly as well as he had the night before, and neither did Castiel.

The next morning, Dean woke with his alarm and the two shared a quick breakfast before they headed out. He stopped by the clinic first as planned, and Amelia was just opening up.

“Wow, Castiel! You look so much better! Did Dean groom your wings for you?” She asked, her tone a little bit too ‘speaking to a toddler’ for both their tastes.

Castiel looked at his feet, a blush creeping over his face. “Yes…Dean was very kind to me this weekend.”

“I’m sure he was. Well, you come on inside and we’ll update your chart.” Amelia replied, ushering him in before turning to Dean. “You have a good day at work, and don’t worry about Castiel here, I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know you will.” Dean responded with a melancholy smile. He gave a half-hearted wave. “See ya this afternoon, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean.” Castiel offered softly, eyes barely flicking up to meet the man’s. The farewell had a sort of sadness to it that wasn’t just petulant…it almost seemed final. Something about it made Dean’s heart clench.

Dean shoved the feeling down and headed for his car, resolutely not looking back as he pulled out of the lot and headed for Bobby’s.

\- - -

Dean had spent his whole day at work worrying about Castiel. Even Bobby noticed his lack of focus and called him out on it a few times, which just caused Dean to have to explain the whole situation. Bobby was only mildly sympathetic and Dean managed to get his act together, but he was still watching the clock like some anxious high school student waiting for the final bell. At long last, the end of his shift rolled around and he got out of there like his life depended on it, heading straight for Heaven’s Rest. He noticed that the vendor where he’d gotten Cas was eerily vacant, wondering with a sick sense of pride if Sam had reported it with the information in Amelia’s files. He only hoped the guy hadn’t up and moved somewhere else…but it wasn’t likely that they’d stopped him for good.

The clinic was usually busy on Mondays, but there was a certain level of panic when Dean rolled up to the small building. Both Amelia and Benny were helping to carry an extremely injured angel into the clinic. Amelia was barking orders, and the moment she saw Dean, she did not make an exception for him.

“Dean! I need treatment room one cleared; we have a severely injured angel that needs immediate medical attention.” Amelia yelled. Castiel, who had been waiting in the lobby for Dean’s return, sprang to the door, holding it open for the humans.

“I got this; you go clear the treatment room and I’ll help Benny get him in there.” Dean replied, swooping in to take Amelia’s place under the angel’s right arm. He was thin, but angels were naturally heavier than humans anyway.

The woman nodded and took off into the clinic while the two men lagged behind, shouldered with the burden of the bleeding angel. Once they were inside, Castiel came up behind them and placed a hand on the small of the angel’s back. His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he tried to get a good look at the wound on his left side. Unfortunately, that side was plastered fairly close to Benny, and all he could see of it was the crimson that was staining the both the man and the patient’s clothing.

Amelia had cleared the room by the time they stepped inside and both Dean and Benny hauled the angel onto the gurney. She was back to barking orders again, and Dean just took a step back, out of the way. Castiel joined him, watching with narrowed eyes.

Dean placed a tentative hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Hey, Cas…don’t worry. Amelia’s gonna do everything she can to save that angel.”

“His name is Balthazar.” He replied, voice flat. “I knew him. In Heaven. He was in another garrison, but he was like a brother to me…until the Fall.”

Dean blinked at him in shock. “You…you know him?”

Castiel nodded tightly. “We fought together…until the final war. Balthazar was caught trying to steal weapons from Eden and was sent to Earth, into bondage, as was I. I have not seen him in a long time.”

Dean looked from Castiel’s pensive expression to the angel on the bed, who wasn’t looking very good.

“I’ve never seen a wound like this that didn’t close right away. The bleeding just won’t…stop.” Amelia said, an edge of panic to her voice as the angel’s eyes fluttered closed and his head dropped to one side. “Dammit, dammit, dammit! He’s crashing…Benny!”

“Got it!” Benny called, already knowing what she needed. He bolted across the hall to get the crash kit. They hardly ever used the thing, but Sam insisted they keep one around at every shelter for the rare occasion that it would be needed.

Castiel looked at Dean, mouth set in a grave line. “He’s dying.”

Dean looked at him helplessly. “Amelia’s gonna save him, Cas…you just have to—”

“She can’t save him.” Castiel cut in. “But I may be able to.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “How?”

“It’s something I can do with my Grace. I need you to trust me.” Castiel bit back. He couldn’t reveal to Dean what Gabriel had done for him…not yet. But he couldn’t sit back and watch his brother die. “Please get everyone out of the room.”

“Cas, I don’t—”

“ _ **Now.**_ ”

Dean sighed, seeing from the ferocity in those blue eyes that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He crossed the room and took Amelia’s arm, pulling her from the room. “Cas can help him, but he needs us to leave.”

The woman balked at him, thrashing, but Dean held fast. “Leave? What? I can’t leave, that angel is dying and if I don’t—”

“Amelia…” Castiel’s voice was strangely soothing as he spoke over her, cutting her off. “There is nothing more you can do for him. He is my brother…let me do what I can to help him.”

She stared at him, but nodded wordlessly, allowing Dean to escort her from the room. They intercepted Benny, who was just rounding the corner with the crash cart, and explained that it wasn’t needed as Dean closed the door behind them.

Castiel’s hand flicked out to the door and the lock clicked without him even touching it. He circled to the other side of the bed quickly, placing one palm flat on Balthazar’s wound while the other held his chin, craning his head back up.

“Balthazar, can you hear me?” Castiel’s hand glowed, the wound closing up beneath it. He couldn’t close it all the way, or Dean and the others might get suspicious, but he could at least stop the bleeding and stabilize him. Once he’d accomplished that, Balthazar’s own Grace should have been able to do the rest.

The angel beneath him groaned, eyes fluttering, but it appeared he couldn’t quite swim back to the conscious world just yet. Castiel released his chin, setting his cheek gently back onto the pillow. He sighed, finally bringing his hand away from the wound. “Sleep, my brother. The worst is over now.”

Amelia practically broke down the door once the lock clicked open again.

\- - -  
Dean watched as Amelia looked the angel over, bandaged him and got an IV into him. Castiel stood by his side, watching with concern.

“I think he will be all right.” Castiel said finally.

“I’m sure he will be. Whatever you did really helped.” Dean assured him.

“I’m…glad you came back.” Castiel said after a long pause.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “Cas, I told you, I volunteer here every day after work.”

Castiel nodded, looking at the floor. “Yes, but humans lie.”

Dean frowned. “Well…I wasn’t lying.”

Castiel nodded, a small smile on his lips.

Amelia came over once she’d tended to the injured angel’s needs, bringing a chart with her. “Castiel…Dean said you knew this angel. Could you tell me as much as you know? It’s so I can help him.”

Castiel frowned. “All I have is a name: Balthazar. He and I knew each other in Heaven. I don’t know what’s happened to him since he’s been on Earth.”

“Well, from the shape of his wings and his skin, I’d say they haven’t had him in the fights…at least not recently. Looks like he might have ended up with a half-decent family doing housework. I don’t know what possibly could have caused that wound, though…I’m going to run some tests…he should be awake shortly. I’ll be back, why don’t you two stay and keep an eye on him?” Amelia suggested.

Dean nodded, pulling up a chair for himself and Cas to sit by the bed. “All right…call me if you need anything, okay?”

Amelia nodded before heading out of the room. Castiel didn’t take the seat, instead pacing around the bed anxiously. It was a while later when Balthazar’s eyelids fluttered open and he groaned. He blinked several times, staring right at Dean.

“Well, hello. Don’t think I know you.” The angel said in a heavy British accent. “But I can’t say I wouldn’t like to…”

Dean stammered, caught off-guard. “Uh…oh, er…you’re at an angel sanctuary. I’m one of the volunteers…I was here when they brought you in.”

The angel sat up, hissing when he pulled his side. “Well, that’s healing up nicely…in that it’s _not_.” He griped. “So, ‘volunteer’, do you have a name?”

“Yeah, uh…Dean.” He told him, mumbling. “But Cas was the one who helped fix you up.”

He motioned to Castiel, who was on the other side of the bed, watching the exchange with a look of disdain. The injured angel turned to him, smiling brightly. “Ah, Castiel…the Angel of Thursday. It’s been a long time, old friend.”

“Angel of…Thursday?” Dean asked, confused.

Castiel sighed, glaring at Balthazar as he answered. “Upon their creation, each angel is assigned something which they patron. It often denotes their power. For example, Lucifer was the Archangel of Fathers. Michael, of Sons. Raphael of Daughters, and the final Archangel was of Mothers.” He left out Gabriel’s name, but pressed onward, hoping they wouldn’t ask and Balthazar wouldn’t mention it. “The more sons or fathers on earth, the more powerful the angels became. I am the patron of all those born on Thursdays. Balthazar is the patron of kings.”

“Which is unfortunate, really, because there just aren’t many countries running on a monarchy nowadays.” Balthazar snarked, re-arranging his pillows so he could sit up comfortably. “Wasn’t always like that, though…gave my garrison a run for their money in the 14th Century, as I recall…”

“So, the more kings there are, or the more people born on Thursday, that makes you stronger?” Dean asked, halfway between skeptical and really interested.

“Well, yes…in theory. I'd been waiting for William to take the throne for years, but old Bess the Second just kept on keeping on, rest her soul. Although…doesn’t do us a damn bit of good with these bloody sigils carved into our chests.” Balthazar explained. “They block all our non-physical power, save for minor healing. Oh, and of course, I can sense your _feelings_.” He spat the word like it was offensive to him.

Dean coughed uncomfortably. “Right…I think I heard my brother talk about that? You guys are like…empaths?”

“Hardly. Without the sigils, I could sift through everything that’s on your mind right now or has been recently. Cassie here could read every thought to ever cross it.” Balthazar wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

“ _Balthazar_.” Castiel gave him a dangerous glare, matching his tone. “You know we aren’t supposed to talk about those things.”

“Oh please. Those are rules set by old Uncle Raphy, and since he’s put these lovely sigils on us, they can’t hear us anymore. Sharing angel knowledge can only hurt him in the long run, and as you can imagine, screwing him would _delight_ me.” Balthazar snarked.

Castiel just sighed, shaking his head. His feathers were twitching, ruffled like a physical representation of his annoyance. They immediately stiffened when the door opened and Amelia returned.

“Balthazar…you’re awake…and looking much better.” The woman said with a clear tone of relief, checking the fluids hanging from the IV.

“Not the best compliment I’ve ever gotten, but I’ll make do.” Balthazar quipped with a small grin.

“This is Amelia. She runs the clinic. They help many angels here.” Castiel told him.

“Charmed. And thank you…not many people help angels nowadays.” Balthazar replied.

Amelia shook her head, smiling. “And in high spirits, too, I see.” She paused, the smile falling from her face. “I hate to bring this up now, but…other angels could be in danger, so it’s really important that we find out what happened.”

“It was an angel blade.” Balthazar answered immediately, dismissive.

“ _ **Balthazar**_!” Castiel snarled, rounding on him.

“Really, Cassie…lighten up. What do you think these humans are going to do with this knowledge? Start a revolution? They run a bloody clinic.” Balthazar rolled his eyes, turning back to Amelia. “It wasn’t a real angel blade. As in, the sword every angel is born with the ability to conjure…”

“Another skill stripped by the sigils.” Castiel added bitterly.

“Yes, well, that blade has the ability to kill an angel. One of the only things that can kill an angel at full-power, as I recall. They’re made of a silver metal, forged in Eden in the heart of Heaven by Virgil, the Angel of Soldiers. They’re attached to an angel’s Grace at birth.” Balthazar explained. “This blade wasn’t metal, it was wood. Dark, like it had been charred…may I have a pad and pencil?”

Amelia crossed the room to grab him a clipboard, flipping one of the medical checklist sheets over to its blank side. She handed that to him with a well-sharpened pencil.

“Thanks, darling.” Balthazar offered with a wink, starting to scribble. “It was shaped a bit like our blades, but without the hilt…more like a stake. And it had been burned, but that hadn’t made it brittle or ashen.”

“Holy oil…?” Castiel mumbled, mostly to himself.

“That would make sense…and along the wood, there were carvings…Enochian. I couldn’t make them out, it was gone so fast…but I did see a few.” Balthazar drew them into the picture of the blade he was rendering.

Castiel peeked over his shoulder, reading aloud. “Servant…Heaven…destruction…end…these are unholy incantations.”

“You’re telling me…I was the one who got shanked.” Balthazar quipped. “What I want to know, is where did humans find out how to do this? Even _I_ didn’t know things like this could kill an angel…or, potentially kill an angel, anyway. Thank goodness for good Samaritans, eh?”

Amelia took the drawing, staring at it for a long while with a grave expression on her face. “I’m going to send this to Sam. He needs to know the violence against angels is escalating. In the meantime, Dean…could you talk to Detective Henrickson about this? See if he has any leads?”

Dean nodded, taking his phone out to snap a picture of the drawing while Amelia still held it up. “I’ll try…but you know how his hands are tied with angel matters, Ames.”

She nodded sadly in return. “I know, but he’s your friend. He can keep an ear to the ground for us at the very least. If it prevents a single attack, I’ll be thrilled.”

Dean could relate to that. He pocketed his phone, turning to Castiel. “I’ll stop by the precinct on my way home. Cas, did you want to…?”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, but thankfully he didn’t have to, because the angel spoke up quickly, if a bit timidly. “I’d…like very much to stay with you, Dean.”

Dean clapped his hands, then rubbed them together with a sort of finality. “Okay, then. Anything else you need from us, Amelia?”

The woman shook her head. “No…just take care of each other, and you can bring him by in the mornings if he doesn’t want to stay at home alone while you’re working. I’m sure we can find plenty of uses for him around the clinic helping with the other angels.”

Dean nodded. “You got it. C’mon, Cas. Let’s head home.”

The angel smiled as he followed Dean out to the Impala. He’d had plenty of houses before…plenty he’d been locked in, shackled to, caged in…but none he’d ever once dreamed of calling “home”.

Not until now.

\- - -

As predicted, Detective Victor Henrickson was not much help. He did promise to sneak any info about angel attacks to Sam and Amelia as a favor, so the stop at the Lawrence Police Department wasn’t entirely wasted at least. Dean swung by the drive-thru on the way back to grab both himself and Cas some burgers and milkshakes, and the way Cas lit up just made his whole day better.

From then on, Dean dropped Cas off at the clinic on his way to work in the mornings, then volunteered after work as usual, taking Cas home once they were done. The angel tried not to show it, but he was still a bit offended that Dean wouldn't leave him at home. Dean eventually seemed to notice, and about three weeks after he'd brought Cas home, he finally caved.

"Now you're sure you'll be okay?" Dean asked for probably the twelfth time as he sat on the couch, lacing up his boots.

"Dean, I assure you I will be fine. Your home is in good hands." Castiel said confidently.

"I’m more worried about _you_ being in good hands." Dean countered, standing. Castiel smiled earnestly at that, and Dean couldn't help but to fondly ruffle his hair. "All right, just take care of yourself. Watch all the DVDs and read all the books you want, help yourself to the fridge...if you're uncomfortable or you get hurt or lonely or whatever, use the house phone to call me, my cell number's taped to the receiver. I'll come pick you up or get Benny to bring you to the clinic, okay?"

Castiel was still grinning, not caring that his hair was sticking every which way. "I'll be okay, Dean. Have a good day at work."

"Take care of yourself, Cas." Dean chuckled, mussing up the angel’s hair one more time before heading out.

\- - -

A few hours in, Castiel already began to miss Dean terribly. At the clinic, he’d at least had the company of others, so it was bearable. He’d been able to talk to some of the angels, help Amelia and Benny with their work…but here, he was alone.

He knew Dean didn't like him doing chores, but the angel felt it was only fair. He cleaned the entire apartment, top to bottom, did Dean’s laundry, put away the clothes once they were clean, scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom spotless and started dinner with enough time to make sure it was ready when Dean got home.

The mechanic, of course, had stopped by to volunteer at the clinic on his way back, so it was fairly late when he got home. The smile on his face fell and his greeting died in his throat when he opened the door and realized he had come home to a spotless apartment and a home-cooked meal.

He knew it wasn’t the appropriate reaction, but he went into panic-mode. “Cas…Cas, what did you do?”

The angel stiffened. “I…I cleaned your home, Dean. You’ve done so much for me that I wanted to repay you…”

“What? I didn’t want you to repay me, Cas…not like this. You’re not a slave!” Dean was angry with himself more than anything for letting them fall into the typical slave and master roles, but it was clear that Castiel took his shouting personally.

“I’m sorry, Dean…I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. I touched your things without your permission in ways you did not ask me to. I’ve upset you…” Castiel fell to the man’s feet, hanging his head in shame and presenting himself for punishment.

Dean was instantly horrified. He stammered in protest and sunk to his knees, pulling Castiel into his arms. He just sat there on the floor, holding the angel and stroking his back, whispering apologies for almost an hour until they’d both calmed down.

Dean promised to never raise his voice at Castiel again.

\- - -

Once the house was clean, Castiel was admittedly even more bored at home. Dean had showed him how to use the TV and DVD player of course, but sitting on the couch watching movies for hours made Castiel restless. Eventually he resigned that he thought it would be better if he went to the clinic while Dean was working so he could at least help Amelia and Benny. Dean agreed, and Amelia was more than delighted to have Castiel back.

Some arrangements at home still managed to remain unchanged. They continued sleeping in the same bed, because Dean refused to let Castiel try to sleep on his tiny sofa with those massive wings, and Castiel looked utterly offended every time Dean offered to sleep on the couch. It was by no means a negative, though, because Dean got some of the best sleep of his life guarded by the large, black feathers draped over him, and Castiel was much more content when Dean was close to him.

They spent the weekends out when they could, Castiel practically begging Dean to let him come along even just to run errands. Dean didn't like going out in public with Castiel...but only because of the looks they got. Since Dean pretty much refused to let the angel carry anything or perform even basic tasks for him, the people who didn't know about his work at the clinic or his relation to Sam's campaign assumed Castiel was either a 'companion' angel or even worse, a sex-slave.

Once, while shopping in the grocery store, some guy had snickered and commented that if he didn't use Castiel to carry the groceries, what was he good for? Then, with a leer, he presumed that the angel must at least have a good hole to fuck.

Dean felt white-hot rage flood through him and he about pounced on the guy. The only thing that stopped him was Castiel's hand on his shoulder. He bit out a growled, "He's a foster, you prick," and got the both the hell out of there before Dean's self-control could break.

It was a month after Dean had found Castiel when a holiday weekend came around. Bobby had closed down the shop and given everyone the day off. The clinic was still open for emergencies, but Amelia insisted they were so slow that she didn’t need Dean to come in that day either. Dean decided to spend the day out in the city with Castiel, hitting up a local barbecue and car show in the city park. Dean was just about preening at the stares and compliments he got when he drove the Impala through the lot. The angel just beamed at seeing Dean so happy.

They feasted on barbecue ribs and drank strangely-colored sodas, then munched on snow cones as they meandered, admiring the cars. Well, the mechanic admired the cars...Castiel's eyes hardly left Dean enough to notice them.

There weren't a lot of angels at the fair; they had probably been left at home by their families to clean. The ones that were at the park tended to be keeping track of their masters' children, guarding the show cars or carrying purchases. Dean scowled despite himself.

"They would rather be here." Castiel said softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

The mechanic turned to him, confused. "Uh...?"

"Sorry...I've grown accustomed to your emotions. When they shift, it's hard not to notice. And your expression...you were looking at the angels." It was only a half lie. Even with the sigils, he would have caught Dean's displeasure. Perhaps not as vividly, but he would still know. "They know it could be so much worse. They may not enjoy it, but they are grateful they aren't in the fights."

Dean shook his head. "The best of the worst isn't even on par with basic human rights. They might not have it as bad as it could be, but that doesn't make it right."

Castiel watched raptly as Dean's soul brightened with each word. It was clearly a subject he was passionate about.

"What's that look for?" Dean asked self-consciously. It was his brother's fight, angel rights...but over the years, Dean had come to care about it, too. And since meeting Castiel, his irritation with the system seemed to have turned into outright anger.

The angel shook his head, smiling. "Nothing. It's just that...what you and your brother are doing for the angels. They appreciate it. And the ones who don't know, one day, they will."

Dean smiled sadly. "When they're free."

Castiel nodded, though his grin was not at all melancholy. "When they are free."

\- - -

The sun was setting by the time they left the park, transitioning into a cool spring evening. They had wandered off into the historic district of town and were heading back to the park to get the car when Dean heard a grunt of pain and some angry voices. He hurried down the block with Cas in tow, stopping before a darkened alley.

Three male, human figures stood over a winged one, which was shielding its face as they kicked at it. The angel was so cocooned by its wings that Dean couldn't tell if it was male or female.

"Hey! Back off the angel, punk!" Dean snarled, stepping in front of Castiel. The angel's wings were stiff, feathers shivering nervously.

The figure in the center halted, turning around. He was tall and somewhat wiry, with short, graying hair that formed a jagged widow's peak on his forehead. He had a scraggly goatee framing a wicked smirk.

"Well if it isn't Dean Winchester. Long time, no see old friend." He drawled, a lazy, yet menacing lilt in his tone.

Dean went rigid. It had been years since he'd seen him, but he knew that face. "Alastair. Last time I saw you, you were being carted off to jail."

Alastair made a face. "That was a long time ago...I'm out now."

Dean scoffed. "Guess I always figured you'd do something else illegal to trade up into the big time federal prisons and that I'd never have to see your ugly mug again."

Alastair feigned offense. "Dean...you wound me. Surely I'm smart enough not to get caught now..."

"Well you just did, so you better back off and get lost before I call the cops."

"What, this? I'm disciplining my angel. There's nothing illegal about that." Alastair replied smoothly.

The wings came down slightly and Dean's eyes locked with the angel's. Brown, with disheveled hair of the same color, matching his wings. He was shaking his head, unblinking in fear. However, it was Castiel who spoke first.

"That isn't his angel."

Alastair snarled, stepping closer. He must have known that Castiel was using his extra sense to garner that the other man was lying. "Get out of my head you filthy, winged monkey."

Dean took a step for each of Alastair's, still in front of Castiel. The other man's cronies stood to either side of their leader, teeth bared. Dean didn't know them...they must have been new.

"Say one more word about the angel and I'll break your fucking jaw." Dean threatened.

Alastair's eyes flicked down as if he were sizing Dean up. "Like you could. Like you _would_. You've gotten soft, Dean...I can see it."

"You're about to see my fist in your teeth if you don't get lost."

Alastair was quiet for a long moment before heaving a sigh, holding his arms up in a dramatic shrug. "Fine. I'm not here to pick fights with pathetic thugs like you. Have the angel."

He snapped his fingers and the men to either side of him followed him out of the alley. Dean watched them go, knowing better than to turn his back on them. Once they were gone, he approached the angel and held out a hand.

"Hey, easy now. It's okay, we're here to help." Dean eased when the angel flinched. When the angel finally took his hand, he pulled him to his feet. "That's it...what's your name?"

"Inias." The angel replied softly.

"It's nice to meet you, Inias. I'm Dean, and this is Cas. We'd like to take you to an angel sanctuary to get you checked out. Is that okay?"

The angel seemed wary, looking at Castiel. It was like some kind of unspoken language when two angels locked eyes, and Dean imagined in the days before the Fall, they had probably communicated with their telepathy in moments like this.

The angel nodded, seeming satisfied with whatever feelings he'd gleaned from Cas, or perhaps just the hopeful look on his face was enough to show him this human could be trusted.

They headed for the clinic with the new angel in tow.

\- - -

Amelia was never bitter about getting another angel to care for, even if it was getting to the point of being more than they could handle. But they were dangerously close to capacity, to the point that she had already begun discussing an expansion with Sam.

After she had introduced Inias to Benny so they could get him cleaned up before Amelia's examination, she walked the halls with Dean, starting a chart as Castiel tagged behind them.

"So his name is Inias, you said?" She clarified.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I didn't get much. He said the family he was working for owed money to Crowley and they took him in retribution. He wasn't official collateral for the loan so they had no legal right to take him. That's why the guys roughing him up split without him, I guess."

"Where did you find this one?"

"In an alley...those thugs were kicking him around." Dean explained bitterly. "And it looks like Alastair is back in town."

"Alastair!" Came a loud voice from the room to their right. Amelia practically jumped out of her skin before ducking inside.

"Balthazar? What was that?" She asked breathlessly.

Balthazar was heaving for air and clutching his side, having aggravated his wound. Despite weeks of treatment, it still hadn’t healed properly. "After I was stabbed, before I blacked out...I remember that name. Alastair. He was the one who tried to kill me."

Dean saw red. He bolted from the room, back out to his car. Castiel scurried behind him, face etched in worry.

"Dean...Dean!" When the mechanic got into the driver's seat, he slid into the passenger's side. "Dean...what's going on? Why is this Alastair person trying to kill the angels, and what does it have to do with you?"

He didn't need Dean to tell him. Just the mention of the name had a slew of bitter memories long since buried flooding to the forefront of Dean's mind. Castiel could see how they met...Dean, fresh out of high school and trying so hard to find a job. And there Alastair had been, showing up like a crossroads demon in a sharp suit with a briefcase full of promises, and Dean had let himself believe.

Castiel pulled himself from the memories, because Dean was talking, and he wanted to hear it from him directly.

"Alastair was..." Dean gritted his teeth, sighing. He backed out of the lot and headed east. "I guess you could say I used to work for him. He's kind of the town loan shark. Or rather, he works for the town loan shark. He doesn't just handle the accounts, though...he uh, encourages people to repay their debts. And back when I was fresh outta high school, they needed some extra hands."

 _Fists_! Dean's mind screamed so loud that Castiel could hear it without trying. There was incredible bitterness and self-hatred in the word even if it wasn't spoken.

"Basically, it paid better than food service, which was about all I qualified for at the time, and it was something that didn't conflict with my job at Bobby's garage. But I got in way too deep, Alastair wanted to go farther than I was willing, and he threatened Sammy if I walked away." Dean's voice was trembling, even just dredging this all up. "I stayed, but it wasn't long before they crossed more lines than I could justify. I got Sam somewhere safe and went to the cops. They dropped any assault charges against me based on coercion and in exchange for my testimony. They locked Alastair up on attempted murder, but I guess he's out now."

Castiel frowned. "I'm sorry that you are having to relive that darker time in your life, Dean. Rest assured that you and Sam are safe so long as Gabriel and I are around."

"I'm not scared for Sam...he has his security detail and Gabe on top of that...but I'm worried what Alastair's up to. Everyone knows angels aren't easy to hurt that badly...and if he's the one who stabbed Balthazar, that means he's found something even the angels don't know about that could potentially kill them. We have to stop him."

Castiel frowned. Dean was right, and he would go along with any plan he concocted. He only hoped that it didn’t mean anything for the coup…and that Dean could remain safely uninvolved with his brother’s and Gabriel’s plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good portion of several of the later chapters are already written so it shouldn't be too long before the next gets published. I'm anticipating 5-6 chapters total. Thanks for sticking with me, kids!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And look at that, new chapter up with less than an 8-month gap. I’d say that’s an improvement, eh? In my defense, I had the second half of this chapter written already. It was Chapter 3 that was giving me problems.
> 
> Some important notes! This fic takes place in a sort of ambiguous future (so no set date, but no huge advances in technology; probably in the next 10-20 years or so). Racism as we see it today isn't as prevalent in this society (although it still, sadly, exists), and LGBTAQ+ rights are federally recognized (everything from marriage to adoption and the stuff in between). So, think of it this way: right now, our society is post-Civil Rights Movement (for Blacks/racial minorities). In this fic, the US is post-Equal Rights Movement (for LGBTAQ+ folks). This is mentioned briefly in the fic this chapter but I wanted to make sure that was clear!

Sam hadn't had a moment's rest since his visit with Dean. Between planning expansions on the sanctuaries, reviewing his speeches and actually attending congressional sessions, he didn't have time to breathe, let alone relax.

So when he threw himself on his couch with a sigh and started loosening his tie one Thursday afternoon, Gabriel actually looked more sympathetic than amused as he leaned over the cushions to watch him.

"Forget about your meeting with Dick Roman?" He asked coyly.

Sam groaned, throwing his head back and tightening his tie up again. "Dammit! I knew the day couldn't possibly be over yet. Too good to be true." He glanced at the clock; 5:51...he had less than ten minutes before the man would be arriving.

Gabriel frowned sympathetically. "Sorry. If it's any consolation, he's running late. I can change some traffic lights on his route and buy you a couple extra minutes."

"You're a lifesaver." Sam mumbled gratefully.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, smirking. "I can get him into a minor fender-bender, too...might make him reschedule."

Sam shook his head, still thrown over the back of the couch with one arm covering his eyes. "No, that's okay. Ruby's riding with him so it'll do more harm than good." Another sigh. "I friggin' hate that guy."

"Tch, get in line. Kinda glad he's coming here, though. I'm thinking I can get a bit of dirt on him with some mind-mojo." Gabriel wiggled his fingers. "I kinda wanna know why this dude hates angels so much."

Sam nodded with a huff. "Yeah...kinda hard to read his mind when he bans angels from the congress floor."

Gabriel snorted. "He sure lives up to his name."

"My brother calls him Dick-less."

"I like your brother." Gabriel teased with a laugh.

"I should sick Dean on him next time. He was such a douche at the last session, I wanted to clock him. Can you believe now he wants mandatory collars on all owned angels? And he's trying to convince congress to pass another ridiculous bill regulating fosters." Sam groaned. "This guy is the bane of my existence, I swear."

"If it's any consolation, he just missed the light on Sandover Drive for a third time."

Sam snickered. "Thanks, babe."

"Anytime." Gabriel replied with a grin, crawling over the sofa and into Sam's lap. He kissed lightly at his neck. "You've been so stressed out lately. This your last meeting of the day?"

"Yes." Sam responded pathetically.

Gabriel chuckled softly, still kissing at his neck. "Well then how about we kick Ruby outta here after and order from your favorite Thai place?"

Sam perked up at that. "The one with the kaeng khae?"

Gabriel smirked. "You know it. I'll even get those dessert spring rolls you love."

"Oh my gosh I could kiss you."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Then do it, ya moose."

Sam huffed a laugh, uncovering his eyes and leaning in to capture the archangel's lips. He hummed happily against him, enjoying the moment of relaxation while it lasted. It wasn't long, though, before Ruby rang the doorbell in warning. He heard her key slip into the lock and stood, smoothing his shirt. Gabriel offered him one last kiss before disappearing into the bedroom.

Dick was talking loudly as the door opened, and the first thing Sam saw was how utterly exasperated Ruby looked. Her dark hair was whipped up into a bun held in place by a blue pen and her ever-handy iPad was held in a white-knuckle grip. She glanced at him piteously before faking a smile and turning back to their guests.

"Gentlemen. Mr. Winchester will see you now."

"Ah, wonderful." Dick strode across the room, Sam meeting him in the foyer and shaking the hand he proffered. "Sam! I'd like you to meet Fergus Crowley, CEO of Teufelshunde Enterprises. He hopes to work with both of us in the future."

Sam turned to shake the other man's hand as well. He despised how utterly two-faced Dick was, but smiled pleasantly. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Crowley."

Both men were surveying him strangely, as if gauging his reaction. When they didn't get what they wanted, Dick clapped his hands together. "So! You got a conference room we can deal in?"

"Right this way, gentlemen." Sam released Crowley's hand and turned to lead them to his office. Ruby headed to the kitchen to make them coffee...and maybe steal some for herself.

‘ _Whoa. Who's this guy?_ ’

‘ _Gabe, you know it's distracting when you do that._ ’ Sam tried to keep a straight face, even with his angel talking in his head. Telepathy was something Gabriel used often in the presence of others, but the younger Winchester was still getting used to it. Hopefully he wouldn't pull out the dirty talk. He'd done it during Ruby's interview and it was all Sam could do to hide the boner he'd been trying to will away.

‘ _You'll wanna hear this, trust me. This Crowley guy is bad news. All he's thinking about is your brother._ ’

‘ _Dean? What's he got to do with this?_ ’

‘ _Can't tell exactly. But he keeps thinking about some guy named Alastair and your bro...and it's not all happy thoughts. Don't trust a word this guy says._ ’

‘ _I don't intend to._ ’

"So, gentlemen." Dick pulled the man out of his thoughts as they sat, Sam behind his own desk and the other two men in the matching leather chairs before it. "Shall we get down to business?"

\- - -

Sam was having a difficult time not punching either one of these guys in the face. He knew Dick was a hateful douchebag, but he could see why this Crowley guy was friends with him. He sipped careful at the coffee Ruby had brought in for them as Crowley droned on about how he had worked in Sam's hometown and was very familiar with the Winchester work ethic. He claimed he was looking forward to working with Sam and brought up ‘contracts’ a lot, which made him uncomfortable. Sam tried to seem unfazed, because clearly he was gunning for a reaction, but it bothered him that he didn't know what the man was talking about. He wondered why Dean hadn't told him about this guy.

"What we propose is a compromise, if you will." Dick drawled, leaning back and lacing his fingers together. "Mr. Crowley would be the bridge for this bipartisan agreement. His funding would help you open several more angel sanctuaries all around the US."

Sam did a double-take, his tone doubtful. " _You_ want to help fund my angel sanctuaries?"

"Don't sound so incredulous, Sam!" Dick chuckled, but a second later, his tone and expression dropped dramatically. It was all very theatrical. "There are angels out on the street, starving and neglected. Too many. That's a problem we both agree needs a solution. We know implementing them in a military venue is pointless since they can't harm humans, but perhaps in the labor force...they're too expensive to buy in bulk right off the line, but plenty of companies would pay for second-hand; it's cheaper than paying workers, dealing with sick time...and the health care, don't get me started..."

Sam just stared at him as he rambled, flabbergasted. "This...this is why you came here? To propose building halfway houses where angels could be bought and sold _secondhand_ for cheap labor?”

Dick waved him off. “If you’re concerned about unemployment of humans, I completely understand. But, as it stands, unemployment is already the lowest it’s been in decades. That’s saying a lot after the Obama era, I mean—”

“No.” Sam tried for stern, not livid. He was dangerously close to that line. “I don’t know what part of my campaign misled you into thinking I would ever agree to this, but I’m afraid you are wildly misunderstanding my stance on angel equality.”

“Equality is a…subjective term.” Crowley cut in, as if easing Sam into the idea. “I’m sure we could include some new regulations on the fights. Make it a felony, not just a misdemeanor? If we don’t let people force dogs to fight, I don't see why angels should be any different. Maybe add a regulation for consensual fights, though, since angels are at least capable of making decisions—”

"Absolutely not." Sam stood, steeling himself. "This meeting is over."

Dick floundered. "Sam! Come on, now...these terms are completely negotiable! We came here to make a deal."

"I won't be making any deals today, and I think you should leave." Sam responded tersely.

Crowley glanced at Dick, but eventually, the two stood. "I can respect a man who stands by his opinion."

There wasn't anything genuine in the man's tone, but it was nothing compared to Dick's facetious addition of, " _But of course._ "

With tight smiles, Dick and Crowley exited the room, walking past Ruby on the living room couch like she didn't exist. Granted, she was silently engaged with something that appeared to be important on her iPad. Sam was right behind them, eager to get the two men out of his house as soon as humanly possible.

Dick paused and looked around, smirking to himself. "I haven't seen your angel all afternoon, Sam. Where's he hiding?"

Sam gritted his teeth, willing himself to remain calm. "I figured, given the circumstances, you would be more comfortable without him present."

"Nonsense! I don't dislike angels...I just see them one way, and you see them another.” Dick shrugged.

“Well I guess you could say that Sammy just doesn’t _see_ us getting along.” Gabriel’s voice came from the hall as he sauntered up to the three men, hands in his pockets.

Sam was fairly surprised the angel decided to show himself, but he figured Dick had to be _stunned_. Gabriel was rather crude, didn’t appear to know the meaning of manners and was the farthest thing from obedient that Sam could possibly imagine. If it weren’t for the wings on his back, Dick probably would have never thought he was an angel.

Sure enough, the man looked downright offended. “Oh. Uh, this must be…”

“Loki.” Gabriel flashed a cocky smirk. “You must be Representative Roman. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope.” Dick quipped, grinning.

Gabriel just laughed, not boisterous or menacing, but by the end of it, you could cut the awkward tension with a knife.

“Loki and I were about to grab dinner, if you gentleman would excuse us.” Sam piped up, glaring at Dick pointedly.

“Oh, of course. It was, ah…good to finally meet you, Loki.” Dick offered a hand, and Gabriel shook it, looking him dead in the eye.

“Likewise. You remind me a lot of my brother, Raphael.”

He watched for the flicker of recognition, digging into every memory that surfaced at the mention of that name. Only angels were supposed to know that Raphael was the current ruler of Heaven; the tyrant who had caused the Fall that turned the angels into slaves of humanity.

“Well, I’m sure as far as angels go, then, he would have made a fine politician.” Dick replied smoothly, giving nothing away in his features as he released the angel’s hand. “Thank you for your time today, Sam.”

He gave a nod before heading out the door. Crowley was still standing there, watching Gabriel expectantly. The angel took the hint and headed back down the hallway. Once he was gone, the other man turned to Sam.

"Let me give you a bit of advice, Winchester." Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "Humanity, at its core, desires power. Animals just don't do it for us anymore, eh? So we moved on. First it was the Natives. Then, for a while, it was people of color. Women. Homosexuals, trans—what have you...men like you fought until they had their rights. But then came the angels. Perfect, really...because they look human, but they're _just_ different enough that the common folk don't feel like monsters for enslaving them. And it's a business; slavery and oppression, when it all comes down to it.”

His grip tightened and he leaned in closer, tone low. “Take away the business, and your big players get very, very angry. That’s when regimes start to topple, and it all falls down, down onto the common folk, taking them down with it. It’s true, what they say: freedom is not free. It’s _very_ expensive. In fact, I would venture to say that for some, it doesn't even exist."

Crowley gave him a wink, eyes lingering on the other man as he took his leave, closing the door behind him.

"That guy is a dickbag. Excuse my French." Ruby said, completely deadpan as she stood up from the living room couch. She’d been so quiet that none of the men seemed to even have noticed her.

Sam was seething, using every ounce of his effort not to say or do something he'd regret. Gabriel seemed to notice and returned from the hall, stepping up to put a comforting hand to the small of his back.

"Ruby…Sam and I are going to have dinner now. I think it's best if you go."

Ruby gave him a look not unlike a tame sneer. "I work for Sam, not you, Loki."

"He speaks for me." Sam told her, voice tight and raw. "You can head home now. Thanks for your hard work today."

Ruby blinked at him. "Um...okay. I'll see you tomorrow morning, then. Night, boss."

Sam just nodded as she took her leave, locking the door behind the woman. Gabriel gave him a sympathetic frown.

"You okay, Samsquatch?"

"I...need to work out before dinner." The man replied, tugging at his own tie. He suddenly felt like it was strangling him.

"Okay...I'll go pick up the food. You blow off some steam, hm?"

Sam nodded and Gabriel pulled him down so he could kiss his forehead. "Don't break anything."

That earned him a small huff of a laugh from the politician before the angel stepped back, wings flaring. With a single flap, they swooped down and he disappeared from sight.

Sam was the only one who knew that Gabriel, still having all his true power, was capable of flying massive distances in the blink of an eye...he only wished they could travel like that all the time. But the government kept tabs on his flights and would probably notice that he was suddenly in DC or Kansas with no flight records to speak of. He didn't need anything blowing Gabriel's cover and potentially putting him in danger.

Now, though, his focus was blowing off steam. He was livid after his conversation with Dick and Crowley...not to mention that he was beyond concerned how the guy knew Dean. However, he was in no condition to call his brother now to ask. After a workout and a meal, he was bound to be in a better mood.

By the time Gabriel got back, Sam's bare chest was glistening with sweat as he performed chin-ups on the door jamb in the hall. He'd already run a few miles on his treadmill; at this point, he was just waiting on Gabe. The smell of the Thai spices wafted to him the moment the angel returned and he inhaled deeply, touching down lightly on the hardwood floor. The sweats he'd changed into hung low on his hips, the line of his boxers just visible under the waistband.

"Holy mother." Gabriel all but gaped when he finally turned from where he'd been setting the food out on the table. He let out a long, low whistle. "Sometimes I forget how hot you are, even for a human."

Sam snorted, grabbing the towel he'd set out for himself and wiping his brow. "So, what...if I grew wings, I'd be hotter?"

Gabriel snapped his fingers and a pair of gleaming white wings sprouted from Sam's back. They were nothing but an illusion; Sam couldn't control them at all, but they got the point across. The archangel smirked. "I'd never let you leave the house."

Sam grinned in amusement. "Yeah? Well you have me all night, that's all I can promise. But I need a shower before we eat."

"What a coincidence! After traversing the slums of the Lamphun Province to get your favorite meal, I happen to need one as well."

Sam chuckled. "Only you would fly across the globe to get me genuine, Northern Thai cuisine."

"Only I _could_. Well, and Cassie, now. Anyway, c'mon...I was promised all night with you and I intend to cash in." Gabriel wagged his eyebrows, ushering Sam toward the bathroom.

"You gonna get rid of these wing projections anytime soon?" Sam asked through a laugh.

Gabriel just grinned lewdly. "Maybe in a bit."

\- - -

Between a very nice shower, a pleasant meal and comfortably snuggling up with Gabriel for bed, Sam had completely forgotten to call Dean and ask about Crowley. His alarm came too early the next morning, as did all the responsibly in his life, but he eventually resigned to having to get up and start the day. Even though it was early for him, Dean was several hours ahead in his time zone, so Sam picked up the phone and gave him a call.

 

The riffs of an AC/DC guitar solo awoke Dean from a pleasant dream. He rolled over, only to get a mouthful of feathers. He sputtered and swatted at his mouth until they were gone, groaning as he crawled over Castiel to get to his phone. The angel was fast asleep, blissfully ignorant to the sounds originating from the cell on the nightstand.

“Sammy. How’s it going, brother?” Dean asked once he finally had the phone in-hand, voice sleep-rough and eyes barely open.

"You're still in bed?" Sam asked somewhat judgmentally.

"Hey! It's my day off and it's only like..."—a pause as he checked his alarm clock—"...ten AM."

"That's right, you have Fridays off. Lucky bastard."

"I'm still going into the clinic later, so it won't be a completely lazy day." Dean assured him, sitting up to lean against the headboard. Castiel seemed to finally become aware that Dean had moved and grumbled in protest, wiggling to rest his head in the man's lap. Dean smiled fondly and petted through the angel's hair. "Anyway, what's up?"

"I had a really weird meeting last night with Dick Roman. Ended with me kicking him out of my house." Sam told him.

"Dude, you let that asshole into your house? That's ballsy."

"And pointless. No progress on a bill. But he brought this guy Crowley with him. Fergus Crowley. Owns this company, Tuffel-something? The name mean anything to you?"

Dean paled, spine rigid. The shift in his emotional state was so drastic that it woke Castiel from his state of half-sleep. He blinked up at the man from his spot on his lap.

"...Dean?" The angel tried, concerned. His query echoed Sam’s own through the receiver.

"Put Gabriel on the phone." Dean said, voice raw.

Sam's tone was grave. "Dean...who is Fergus Crowley and how does he know you?"

Dean's jaw clenched before he managed to respond, voice cracking. "I swear I will tell you everything, Sammy, but I need to talk to Gabriel _right now_."

Sam sighed, putting the phone on speaker. He looked at Gabriel expectantly, so the angel spoke. "Dean-o...what can I do you for?"

"You listen to me, Gabriel." Dean began, voice trembling with every word. "I don't want you leaving Sam's side. If he goes somewhere you can't, like Congress or the White House, you make sure he has Secret Service with him at all times. Do you understand me?"

Gabriel's tone was instantly serious, no longer playful. "What's my terror alert level here, Dean?"

"Red. Flashing, bright friggin' red. Sam's life is in danger."

"I read you." Gabriel responded with a determined nod.

Sam took the phone back to his ear. "Dean, what the hell? Who is this guy and why are you so afraid of him?"

Dean let out a shaky exhale. "It's complicated, Sammy. It was…a long time ago. Our dad was a mess after mom died, okay? All the drinking, the hangovers...there were bills to pay. Public school might be free, but school supplies and clothes aren't."

"Dean, what did you do?" Sam asked gravely.

Dean took a calming breath. Castiel was fully awake next to him, now, a comforting hand on his knee and concern in his eyes.

"I…I started working for this guy named Alastair. He worked directly for Crowley. Teufelshunde was doing a lot of investments back then, and we were the guys who collected on loans." Dean sighed uneasily. "I'm not proud of the stuff I did, I’m not…it’s just, we needed the money. But then, after dad died in the accident...I wanted to be at home for you. Only, they wouldn't let me go. Then Crowley started ordering us to do more than just rough people up. Alastair was more than game but I couldn't do that."

"What did you do?" Sam asked, sounding more heartbroken than judgmental.

"You went off to college, and I was so friggin' grateful...because even if you were gone, I knew you'd be safer the further away from me you were. I called the school and anonymously reported a threat on your life so they'd increase security, then went to the police. I copped a deal and got off scott-free for my testimony."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam asked, trying not to sound too betrayed.

"I wasn't gonna screw up your chances at Stanford, man...that's why I didn't go into any kind of witness protection; you woulda found out." Dean scrubbed at his face with a groan. "Listen, Sam…if Crowley is working with Dick, it can't be good. Crowley's bad news and they're definitely up to something. I want you on high alert."

"Okay, Dean. I'll watch my back. You watch yours, too." Sam told him.

Dean thought for a moment, wondering if he should bring it up. In the end, he decided it was better to just tell him.

"Sam…did you get that report from Amelia about the angel who'd been stabbed about a month ago?"

"Yeah, uh…Balthazar was his name? I read it in depth; I was concerned about the violence against angels escalating." Sam answered.

"The one who stabbed him…Balth said it was Alastair. Lawrence PD was useless because angels can't testify in court, but you and I both know if Alastair is on Crowley's payroll and he's out hurting angels, it can't be anything good." Dean explained.

"Terror alert level definitely red, then. I got it, Dean. Tell Amelia to hire some more security at the clinic…some armed guards. They can be PD or private contract, whatever she wants. She can bill the corporate account." Sam told him.

Dean sighed in relief. He was glad Sam was taking this seriously. "Thanks, Sammy, I'll let her know." He took a breath of a pause, not sure how to say what he wanted to. Finally, he just went for it. "Sammy, listen…I'm so sorry about all this. If it hadn't been for—"

"Dean, this isn't your fault. I just wished you'd told me sooner." Sam insisted. "Is Castiel with you? I'd like to talk to him, please."

"Uh…sure." Dean have his angel a questioning look as he handed the phone over.

Castiel took it, cradling it carefully. "Yes, Sam…how can I help you?"

"Are we on speaker?"

"No."

"Good. Look, Dean doesn't know you're powered-up, but I do. Dean says I'm in danger, but that means he is, too. I need you to watch over him…keep him safe. Can you do that, Cas? Will you protect him for me?"

"With my life." The angel responded immediately, eyes locked on Dean's. The man knew exactly what had been asked of his angel and frowned.

"Thank you. I'm trusting you to do this for me, Cas. Dean still can't know any more than he needs to about Gabriel's plans."

"Of course."

"You can put Dean back on the line now. I'm counting on you, Cas."

"I won't let you down. I'll give the phone back to Dean now, Sam." The angel did just that, handing over the iPhone carefully.

"Cas isn't a bodyguard, you know." Dean chided.

"And yet you ask the same of Gabriel." Sam countered.

"Touché." Dean snorted. "I'm sure you've got a million meetings today, so I'll let you go…but listen, if Crowley was in your house, check for bugs. He was always fond of that crap."

Sam relayed that to Gabe, and the archangel immediately went to go check everywhere Crowley had been. "I will…thanks for the heads-up. Stay safe, man. We're getting into some heavy stuff here…"

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You stay safe, too, bro. Toss me a text every once in a while, would ya?"

"You got it. Talk to you later, Dean."

The elder Winchester sighed and tossed his phone into his lap once he'd hung up. He just sat there for a moment, taking it all in. Somehow he always knew his past was going to come back and bite him in the ass…he only wished it wasn't bringing Sam down with him.

"…Dean?" He looked up to catch Castiel's earnest expression as the angel placed a hand on his knee again. "Are you all right?"

He knew very well that the man was not all right. His mind was a cyclone of worried thoughts, worst-case scenarios and bitterness.

"M'fine, Cas." Dean waved him off. "Look, about what my brother said…you don't need to protect me, okay? I don't need you putting yourself in the line of fire for me. Balthazar was almost killed by these guys, and I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you…"

"I will be fine, Dean." Castiel assured him, squeezing his knee gently. "And so will you. Now, come on…let me make you breakfast."

Dean protested, as always, as they headed for the kitchen, but it got his mind off of Crowley and Alastair and that was all Castiel could have hoped for.

\- - -

When Dean saw Amelia later in the day, he told her about Sam's recommendations for security and she promised him she would hire someone first thing Monday morning. She had some things to take care of at home over the weekend and Benny would be out of town, so she left it in Dean's hands to check up on the angels on Saturday and Sunday. They didn't have any angels with any dire ongoing treatments, so she insisted that Dean would be just fine on his own for two days. He was doubtful, but Amelia, Benny and even Castiel insisted that they had faith in him.

Faith in him or not, nothing could have prepared them for what awaited Dean when he pulled up to Heaven's Rest on Saturday morning.

He saw the smoke immediately as he pulled into the parking lot of the sanctuary. It was pluming thick and black from the topmost windows of the back building, which had been shattered…from the inside, as the glass on the ground would suggest.

"Cas, call the police!" Dean yelled as he jumped out of the car, pegging his phone at the seat. He bolted for the door of the housing building, halting at what he saw. An angel binding sigil, similar to the ones adorning angels’ flesh, had been painted across it, still fresh and dripping. Dean used the sleeve of his jacket to smear the paint before trying the handle. He seethed and pulled it away, looking down at the fresh burn on his hand. "Son of a bitch!"

Inside, he could hear the angels screaming. It was a shrill and terrifying sound that he knew in that moment he would never forget. Dean steeled himself and stepped back a few paces before dropping his shoulder and ramming into the door. It gave easily, but Dean was immediately assaulted by heat and smoke. His eyes stung and he coughed into the sleeve of his jacket, ducking low to the ground. Through the haze of ash and smoke, he could barely make out the angels all huddled by the back door, some of them pounding against it uselessly. Angel strength or not, if those sigils were on all the doors, none of them would be able to break through.

"Dean! It's Dean!" He heard Samandriel yelp over the crackling flames.

"Samandriel, get the others out of here!" Dean shouted, making his way to the back door. The angels parted, giving him room to kick the door open. He ducked outside for a moment to wipe away the sigil on that door and catch a breath of fresh air. "Come on, this way!"

The angels did as they were instructed, hurrying out of the building. Samandriel halted at the door, though, looking at the human with panic-stricken eyes. “Balthazar still can’t walk on his own.”

“I’ll get him…get the others away from the building and get Amelia here on the double.” Dean told him.

Samandriel nodded and bolted to the huddle of angels to move them away from the building. He spotted Castiel by Dean’s car and ran to him. He was just hanging up Dean’s cell phone when the other angel approached. “Castiel! Amelia must be told!”

“I have already contacted her and the police have been called. Samandriel, where is Dean?” Castiel asked, face suddenly grave.

“He went back in to get Balthazar.” The younger angel told him, face etched in worry.

Castiel did not hesitate before heading for the burning building.

\- - -

Dean had found Balthazar still in his room, trying in vain to get to the door. The wound in his side had been aggravated, a light spot of crimson staining the otherwise pristine dressing. Dean pulled the angel’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist, hauling him toward the exit.

“I’m flattered, really, Dean. But don’t you think you’ve done enough for us, old boy?” Balthazar snarked, giving a helpless sort of laugh as he was all but dragged to safety.

“Shut up, Balth.” Dean gritted, coughing into his shoulder opposite the angel. “Why didn’t the other angels help you…?”

“I told them not to.” Balthazar said simply, seething as his wound was pulled the wrong way when Dean dodged some falling debris. He lifted his left wing over the man to shield him, keeping the right tight over his shoulder. “No point in anyone else getting killed.”

“Don’t be such a hero.” Dean muttered as he got to the door. Uriel was there waiting. Dean handed Balthazar off to the other angel, who effortlessly took his weight. When Dean turned back into the building, Uriel snagged his arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I need to check all the rooms and make sure everyone’s out. You get him to safety!” Dean called back after he yanked his arm away. Uriel didn’t protest, dragging Balthazar from the building to join the other angels as Dean ducked his head and went back in without a second thought.

He tore through every room, calling each angel’s name, having known them all by heart…even the new ones. Each was blessedly returned with silence, and every room was empty. He was leaving the final room and heading for the door when he heard a loud crack and something hit him from behind. He fell to a knee, shielding his head and looking around. The smoke was so thick, he could barely see the doors anymore.

“Dean! Dean!” Castiel’s voice found him through the crackling flames, and when he turned, he could see the angel’s silhouette a few yards ahead, backlit by the sun filtering in from the front door.

Dean took a breath to call back to him, but all he could do was cough as the ash seared in his throat. He doubled over and hacked, tucking himself low to the ground, but even there he couldn’t find enough fresh air to stop the burn. Mercifully, the angel found him anyway, as a shadow descended over him a moment later. He peered up through stinging, watering eyes to see Castiel crouching at his side.

“Dean, the building is collapsing. We need to go.” The sternness in his voice didn’t match the concern in his eyes as they raked across the human’s battered form, assessing.

“The angels…had to check all the rooms…” Dean croaked, attempting to clamber to his feet.

“I assure you, everyone has vacated the premises. We must leave, now.” Castiel argued, gripping tightly to his shoulder and hauling him to his feet. The structure above them groaned and snapped, one of the roof panels cracking and falling down upon them. Castiel brought his wings up like a canopy over Dean, shielding him and batting away the debris. He lowered his wings enough to glance at the entrances: they were both obstructed now.

“Cas, you need to get out of here…go!” Dean shouted, trying to shove him away, even as the angel held fast. “I’ll be fine, just get to the others!”

“I will not leave you, Dean.” Castiel growled, capturing the man’s eyes with fierce determination. He brought his wings up as another section of the roof came crumbling down.

Dean heard a crack that he hoped wasn’t one of the bones in Castiel’s wing and tried shoving at him again. “Get out of here, Cas! Fly out, whatever you have to do, just go. I’ll be fine!”

Castiel shifted his wings around Dean, lifting them just enough so he could see the other man’s face. Another crack, and a massive beam was coming down in the center of the building.

“Shield your eyes!” Castiel warned. Despite his confusion, Dean obliged, shutting his eyes and ducking his head. Even so, he saw red when a blinding-white flash of light erupted from Castiel. Somehow, it was hotter than the fire around them, but beyond all reason, it was a comforting warmth. Nothing about it burned.

The moment the flash ebbed, he heard nothing but complete and utter silence. The only sound he could hear were his own ears ringing. The silence was unnerving…but he didn’t dare open his eyes yet. He felt that warmth around them curl in, enveloping him, and suddenly everything was fine. His throat wasn’t burning, his lungs weren’t on fire, his eyes didn’t sting, his singed hand no longer hurt…his entire body was soothingly comfortable, save for the tingle where Castiel’s hand was still tightly gripping his shoulder.

Dean opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness. Cas was standing in front of him, arm still latched onto his shoulder and wings outstretched, but the fire was gone.

Rather, the whole building was gone.

Dean looked around them, figuring Cas had removed him from the burning building to get to safety with the other angels. It seemed, however, a more accurate assessment was that he had simply leveled the building. The rubble around them was still smoking, but there was nothing left of the roof, and what little portion of the walls were still left were barely taller than them.

"...Cas?" Dean looked at the angel and swore he could see a whitish glow still emanating from his eyes. Whatever it was, it disappeared when the angel blinked.

"Dean." Castiel returned, more in acknowledgement than anything else. His eyes flicked down to his hand as he released Dean's arm, only to see a bright red welt in the shape of a handprint seared into his skin. The angel cringed, fingertips brushing over the scar. "I am sorry."

Dean couldn't think of a single reason why he should apologize.

\- - -

Amelia arrived just after the police. One advantage to still living in the small town you grew up in was that you tended to know everyone...Detective Victor Henrickson and Dean had gone to high school together, and Dean would be lying if he said that had never gotten him out of a speeding ticket or two. It also did wonders for keeping the bigotry at bay...tensions were high when it came to both sides of the fence on the angel equality debate, but it was pretty hard to hate on the "Winchester boys" when half the town spent their lives watching them grow up. As a result, most of Lawrence was not exactly opposed to ending the slavery, in fact, they were proud to say they knew Congressman Sam Winchester when he was catching frogs down by the lake and skinning his knees skateboarding past their houses.

Dean had ducked into the main building of the clinic and wrapped his arm, not wanting anyone to see the mark for fear of Cas getting into some kind of trouble for it. The angel had attempted to heal it away to no avail, and was now speaking Enochian in hushed tones to the other angels where they were huddled by the Impala. Dean himself was still giving his statement to Victor.

"I'm telling you, Vic, they said it was Alastair and his boys…just like the stabbing" Dean said exasperatedly. Thankfully, the fire marshals suspected some kind of propane explosion had caused that level of damage, and none of them were even giving a second glance toward the angels.

"I know, man...but you know as well as I do that an angel's testimony isn't admissible in court. I don't even have enough to get a warrant." Victor replied with a frown.

Amelia came bounding out of her car as she pulled up. She was somewhere between panicked and sobbing when she bolted over to Dean. "Oh my gosh, I came as quickly as I could! Did everyone get out okay?"

"Yeah, everyone's fine. You might wanna check the angels, though...you know the paramedics won't go near 'em." Dean told her. “Balthazar was in pretty rough shape.”

"And you, are you okay, Dean?" Amelia tipped his head back to give him a once-over even as she spoke.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go have a look at Balthazar; he was in there the longest." Dean told her, tossing his head toward the angels.

"The clinic building is all clear if you want to bring them in for treatment, Mels." Victor said with a sympathetic smile. Amelia nodded and went to usher the angels inside.

Dean sighed, turning back to Victor. "I still can't believe this garbage. You've got nothing to go on to arrest Alastair?"

"You know how it is, Dean. Un-owned angels can't testify in court. Hell, even owned ones have to have their master's consent and can't testify against their own master or their immediate family. The system isn't made to protect them."

"Yeah, well the system fucking blows." Dean growled, pegging his water bottle at the dirt.

"Dean, you should continue to hydrate yourself." Castiel said, suddenly before them. He crouched to pick up the bottle and brushed it off before standing and offering it to the human. "You inhaled a lot of smoke."

"I'm fine, Cas.” Dean snapped, but took the bottle anyway. "Shouldn't you be inside with the others?"

"I am not in need of treatment. I needed to discuss something with you." Castiel replied gravely.

Victor looked curious, but took the hint. "Well, that's all I needed from you. I'll contact you if we get any leads we can follow up on. Take care, Winchester."

"See ya, man. Thanks for coming out yourself for this." Dean said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"What're friends for?" The detective responded with a chuckle before heading back to his cruiser.

Dean turned to Cas once the man was out of earshot. "So, I am assuming we are going to talk about this, then?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "I am not sure to which subject you are specifically referring."

Dean leveled his best bitch-face on him. Sam would have been proud. "Really, Cas? How about all of it? The running in after me when I told you not to, the healing internal injuries, the freaking light-show? Why don't we start at the top, buddy?"

Castiel took a breath. "I apologize for the damage done to the building, but I do not regret my actions, Dean. If you had been injured—”

"Cas. You healed me. Lungs, throat, eyes…things angels can’t heal.” Dean interrupted him, his tone pushy.

Castiel let out a sigh and sat next to Dean on the hood of the police cruiser. “That…isn’t entirely true. Angels are more than capable of healing a grave wound. Cherubs can mend broken bones or ease internal bleeding. A seraph can both create and remove cancerous diseases in humans. Archangels can raise the dead.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “The sigils?”

The angel nodded slowly. “Yes. The sigils carved into our flesh before we are sold into bondage limits our ability to do these things by locking away a large portion of our Grace. This served many purposes; it kept the angels from being powerful enough to rebel against Heaven’s new rule, and it prevented humanity from achieving immortality.”

“Because any human with an angel slave could keep having it heal them, stopping them from dying.” Dean sounded revelatory.

“Humans have finite life spans for a reason.” Castiel added in a guarded tone.

Dean still looked confused. “But you have sigils, Cas. I’ve seen them.”

“When Sam and Gabriel visited, I met with my brother alone.” Castiel answered, eyes refusing to meet Dean’s. “Did you not question why he had been searching for me?”

“Well, yeah…Sammy said you two were really close in Heaven. Like actual brothers…like us. I just assumed…”

“Your assumptions were incorrect.” Castiel heaved a long sigh. “Dean, I wanted to keep you out of this for your own safety, but now I see no other choice. You must know the truth.”

The human just blinked at him. “And that would be…?”

Castiel shifted. It was a very human gesture, like he was steeling himself. “Gabriel is an archangel. The fourth; the Archangel of Mothers. He altered my sigils so that they were no longer blocking my Grace. He did so…because he knows that I was the one who led the charge against Raphael during the coup. And it Gabriel’s intention, with the help of your brother, to take back Heaven from Raphael.”

“Sam is in on this?” Dean balked. “You guys are planning some kind of angel revolution, and my brother is calling the shots?”

Castiel nodded. “He wanted your involvement limited, Dean. Your brother cares very deeply for you. But this…Alastair…his actions are concerning, and I’m not so certain he is merely the leader of a small hate-group. It’s obvious that his targeting of this specific shelter was not random.”

“You think he was after you? Or out to get back at Sam on Crowley’s orders? Crowley works for Dick, or works with him, at least. You think he was taking a shot at Sam?” Dean asked.

“Or you.” Castiel replied softly. “Either way, I see no way to keep your involvement limited any longer.”

“Like I’d let you.” Dean grumbled. “So, you and Gabriel…you’re full-fledged angels now? And you’re gonna fight a war against Heaven?”

“Against Raphael.” Castiel corrected. “But we need Michael and Lucifer. Raphael is too strong and the angels in Heaven wouldn’t dare rebel for fear of being made into slaves just like us.”

“I just…Sam is on board with this? He’s just so…I mean he’s always been about peaceful integration, he speaks against acts of violence on either side.” Dean balked.

“Your brother ultimately wants peace, yes.” Castiel replied. “But he knows that this can only be achieved through war. Not humans against angels…but the enslaved angels taking back Heaven. Raphael sold us into bondage. Only Michael and Lucifer are strong enough to liberate us.”

“So Gabriel’s just a catalyst? He’s not even your big gun?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s brow furrowed at the implication, but he didn’t address it. “No…he…Gabriel is not as strong as Raphael. There are more Daughters than Mothers. We need Lucifer and Michael to tip the scales in our favor.”

“Right…the whole Archangel patron thing…” Dean mumbled. “All right, well, what can I do?”

Castiel sighed. “Nothing, I’m afraid. Continue to address Gabriel as Loki in the presence of others, act as if I am still bound by the sigils…I’ve spoken to the angels here and they are willing to help in any way that they can. They have promised to keep my secret. But, perhaps, we will need to take the search for Alastair into our own hands.”

Dean nodded. “I know exactly where we can start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hate Dick Roman, clap your hands! ...I confess I kind of liked him in the show; he's like Dean if Dean were really evil. But I also like making him a complete douche-nozzle for this fic. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> I have an unhealthy obsession with Dean’s handprint scar and I try to tie it into EVERY AU I IMAGINE and that’s why it’s really upsetting to me that they just got rid of in the show. Only one or two chapters left, I haven’t decided yet. I hope you like the fic so far! (Also if you get the Teufelshunde joke without looking it up I applaud you. It's not exactly "Hellhound" but it's the closest translation I could get without it being hokey.)


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